James Sirius Potter
by Maya Sunshine
Summary: A short story about James Potter II growing up, each chapter a new year in his life. Complete info above first chapter. Rated K.
1. Chapter 1

**Right.**  
**This is going to be a rather short-lived story, of 17 chapters. Each chapter will be of a new year in James Sirius Potter's life, starting of with him as a baby. Obviously, as he's still very young, it'll be written from Harry's perspective until I feel James is old enough to... think normally. Or something in that direction. I MEAN, not like toddlers don't think... Whatever. I think most of you know what I'm talking about.**  
**Each chapter will probably be between 1000 and 1500 words, depending mostly on how old James is and for how long I can keep the small part of his life going. Last chapter will be of James graduating from Hogwarts and coming of age :)) **  
**This is not exactly linked to my other work, but as a number of my things are about Harry's later family, this might as well be linked to Harry getting married and my story 'The Potter'. However, if anyone sees any difference, note that I've not written this as some sort of prequel to 'The Potters'. I merely wished to portrait James growing up, as I love the character.**

**Right, sorry for rambling. Please read, enjoy and review!**

**xxx**

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Harry Potter's green eyes stared into the small, wooden cot, standing at the foot of the bed he shared with his wife. The little bundle inside stirred so many emotions in the twenty-two-year old. Immense love was mixed with slight confusion and effortless pride. When his hand descended towards the baby, he opened his eyes. Small, brown eyes, so free of trouble, meeting his father's green gaze.

"Hi, James." Harry murmured, gently stroking the baby's soft strands of black hair upon his small, fragile head. Eyes scrunched up, the little baby boy yawned wildly and smacked his tongue contently when done. Harry smiled widely, and as the baby was awake, he stuck his hands down and lifted the light child up, carefully placing him on his left arm. He couldn't believe how someone so small could make him feel so much at once, and he certainly couldn't believe this little thing was his son. His son, his first child. Making it his first try at parenting. The word scared Harry out of his wits. First of all, he'd never had a father, or a mother, and therefore knew nearly nothing about parenting a young boy. Second of all, even if he would have had parents, he wasn't sure how he should act. He'd seen Ron's parents and how they were, but he didn't see himself as the stern and firm dad. No, that wasn't right at all. And yet, it wasn't like he regretted this becoming a father business. He wouldn't let anyone with bad intentions get within a hundred miles of his precious son. No, he knew all to well what it was like growing up with no one who really looked after and cared for you, and he was adamant that wasn't going to happen to James. He'd be there every step of the way, guiding, joking and correcting if necessary.

Behind him, he noticed Ginny standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe, a small smile on her pixy like face.

"He looks like you." She said softly before standing straight and walking over to her husband and son.

"Though he has your eyes." He commented with an equally soft voice. Since giving birth to her son, Ginny had changed. At least Harry thought so. Not in a bad way, of course. She was just more careful and tender, and something in her eyes changed. From the moment she was given the child, the look in her eyes changed from teeny to mothering and caring. Harry loved it, and thought fleetingly that she looked more than ever like her mother.

"He's sleeping." She whispered in his ear. Drawing his attention away from his red-headed wife, he glanced down at the child in his arms. The child was indeed drowsing, his small eyes shut and his little hand clenched into a tight fist. Shifting the weight carefully, Harry gingerly placed the sleeping boy back in his cot, tucking the covers in around him. Backing away, he then sat down on the large bed in the centre of the room, placing his face in his hands.

"Hey." Ginny joined him, placing a cool hand on his knee. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure."

"Come on, Harry, what's up?" Heaving a deep sigh, Harry sat up straight.

"I just… I just don't what to do." Ginny still looked patiently at him, waiting for him to continue. "This whole being a dad thing. I'll be rubbish at it. I never had a dad, I don't know what a dad's supposed to say, or do." His previous determination seemed to drip off, and he felt sadly pathetic once again.

"Harry, there's not exactly a set of rules on how to be a dad." Ginny said carefully.

"But there is! I can't just remain passive during his growing up, can I?"

"That's not what I meant. Everyone has their own way of dealing with parenting." It felt sad that this woman, a year younger, remained so calm while Harry felt so distraught. "You probably feel this… ignorance is there because you're an orphan, but Harry, all new parents feel at loss." He didn't even bother asking her how she knew this: by now, he'd learned not to question Ginny. She was usually right. Not in the way Hermione would be, but in a way that made sense and was logical.

"But what if I fail miserably?" Harry questioned.

"Now, why would you fail? You might feel uneasy at first, but it'll most certainly come naturally after a while." Still looked inquisitive, Ginny turned Harry to face her. "Harry, just be for James whatever you'd have wanted your father to be to you." Well, that made sense he figured, strangely annoyed by her being right yet again.

"But that's the thing," he frowned. "I don't know what I wanted him to be."

"Yes you do." Smiled Ginny. "You've talked about forever. Just relax, be yourself." Harry snorted, but let a small smile creep out onto his face.

"If I do that, then the kid will be getting up to something before he's even turned three." Ginny grimaced at her husband.

"Trust me." She said simply, placing a hand on Harry's chest. "Whatever you do, he'll love you madly. Remember that."

"I hate you being so damn certain about everything." He muttered.

"Well, darling, get used to it." She grinned, pushing him down onto the bed, and then lying down next to him. The silence pressed on Harry's ears as he thought about everything.

"What's on your mind now then?" Ginny asked in a low voice, her eyes closed and her breathing relaxed.

"Everything… And nothing. No, I was thinking about my blasted years at Hogwarts." Ginny chuckled.

"Yeah, like you didn't love every second."

"Well, I loved most of it… But can you believe, in a few years we'll be shipping James off to school."

"Mm-hmm…" she mumbled.

"Strange…"

"Not as strange as the fact that he'll probably be mistaken for you." Harry snorted.

"His eyes are yours, and hopefully he won't have to wear glasses." Involuntarily, Harry pushed his own glasses higher up onto his nose.

"You know I'm joking." Without answering, Harry simply leaned over and kissed her lightly on her soft lips.

"I love you." He said fondly, staring at her drowsy face. Smiling, her hand found his.

"I love you too."


	2. Chapter 2

**Well, I haven't had much feedback on this, I'm afraid :cc In any case, here is the second chapter. Thought I'd upload it just to make sure I don't drift off ;)**  
**Please do review!**

**xx**

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Wobbling slightly, the two-year-old stood up, his arms stretched out to his sides as he focused on balancing himself. His small feet were round and very babyish, making it rather difficult for him to not fall over. Hovering right behind, though, was his father, looking amused and hiding an anxious look behind his slight smile.

"Seriously, Harry, he has to fall a time or two is he ever is to learn." Ginny chuckled from the sofa, looking up from the book in her hands, eyeing her small family.

"I know." He muttered quietly, still not taking his eyes of his standing son.

"Then back off." She said. Meeting his eyes, she saw a childish defiance in her husband's eyes, making her utter a tinkling laugh. "Come here." Casting one last, nervous glance at the small boy, he then stood up straight and sat down next to his wife on the spongy couch.

"D'you think he'll be okay?" said Harry, biting his lower lip.

"He'll be absolutely fine." As if determined to prove his mother wrong, James then wobbled over and landed with a light _thud_ on the carpeted floor. Harry was on his feet at an instant, though unable to move closer to James when he was standing. Scowling, he turned around to face Ginny, whose wand was lying casually in her hand.

"Leave him." She said firmly. The baby seemed completely oblivious to having just fallen. He looked slightly surprised, but without further ado he placed his chubby hands on the floor and stood up once again.

"See? He's perfectly all right." Reluctantly, Harry sat down again, though on the edge of the couch. "Merlin's beard, Harry, calm _down_! He's only standing up, not bungee jumping." Grinning at his wife, he leaned back and watched the tiny boy. The resemblance towards his father was clear, but Harry was still glad he wasn't an exact copy, like he had almost been to his father. He knew his name would bring him enough annoyance when he started school, and didn't want anything else to get in his way. James was standing once again, his right leg extended in front of his left.

"Oh…"

"That's called taking a step." Ginny said, trying not to giggle wildly. Harry didn't even dignify this with an answer, simply kept watching the child, whose forehead was scrunched up with concentration. Just as his left leg followed the right, a piercing cry shot through the house, making Harry jump slightly. Sighing deeply, Ginny put her book down.

"That'll be Albus. I'll go get him." Rising, she disappeared out of the room, her steps hasty up the stairs. Taking advantage of her absence, Harry walked over to James and scooped him up in his arms.

"First step, eh? That's my boy." Tickling him, James roared with baby laughter.

"'Top iit!" Harry immediately stopped what he was doing staring in disbelief at the giggling toddler.

"What's that?"

"Did you say something?" Ginny walked back into the room, the bundle that was their second son in her arms. _This one_, Harry had thought while peering over at Albus, _is in for a tough time_. When Albus Severus Potter was born, the first thing Harry had really noticed were his eyes. Staring up at his young father, Albus' eyes blazed in the same green colour of his dad's and grandmother's.

"James. He… He told me to stop." Ginny's eyes widened slightly. _So you do have feelings_, Harry thought scornfully. He really couldn't comprehend how she took everything so calmly.

"What do you mean?" she asked, shifting Albus to her other arm. Harry tickled the boy again, making him scream, startled.

"'Top it, daddy!" he shrieked. Stopping straight away, he looked in bewilderment at the little boy, red in the face from laughing so much. This time it was different though. For the first time, ever, he had been referred to as a dad. It felt odd, and in some ways a bit frightening. _Daddy_. All the same, though, his heart warmed at the words, and he turned his head up to face Ginny.

"I… How can he speak, just like that?" He looked questioningly at Ginny, who was still staring with wide eyes at her eldest.

"I have absolutely no idea. Hang on." Placing Albus tenderly on the couch, she grabbed a handful of Floo powder.

"I'll be back in a flash. The Burrow." Green flames erupted in the fireplace, and whisked her away. It took about two minutes before green flames blew out Ginny again, who was closely followed by her mother, Molly Weasley.

"What did he say?" the woman squealed in delight, her brown eyes shining.

"I was tickling him and he told me to stop." Answered Harry sheepishly. Clapping her hands together, Molly all but snatched the boy out of his father's hands.

"Hello there, gorgeous." She whispered, stroking the boy's soft hair. "It was about time he started speaking." Harry looked nervously at his wife, who shrugged.

"Is… Is two years late to start speaking?" He asked, feeling quite embarrassed by not knowing more about all of these things.

"Well, not late, but later than many. A lot of children start talking before they've even got twelve months in their baggage." With those words, Albus whined quietly, demanding some attention. With James still in her arms, Molly beat both the young parents to it and heaved Albus up on her other arm.

"They are quite a pair, aren't they?" she beamed. "And look at those eyes. My, he looks just like you." She nodded at Albus, whose eyes were wide open and looking curiously around the room.

"Mum…"

"Yes, I'm sorry." Handing Albus to Ginny, she then placed James back on the floor, in a standing position. "I take it he does stand?" No one needed to reply: as soon as she let go of the boy, he stood quite steadily on his own.

"They grow up so fast…" she said, choking at the end. Harry didn't see anything worth crying about. He felt more like screaming at the wonder of seeing his small son standing up on his own and calling him 'daddy', while Albus was just yawning and smacking his tongue in the same way James had always done.

"Well, I ought to get going. Make sure to fetch me once Albus catches up with his handsome older brother." Winking fondly at the Potter family, Mrs Weasley then disappeared through the Floo, back to the Burrow. Making a humming noise, James stumbled forwards in small, uneven steps, reaching his mother, grabbing a handful of her trousers.

"Hey there, sweetheart." She cooed, picking the squirming boy up in her arms. "You're getting a bit old to be carried soon, aren't you?" Not that the child was at all too big, but the boy giggled by her words.

"Down, down." Biting her upper lip, Ginny shot Harry a wondrous look, and obliged by putting the little boy back down on the carpet. This time, however, James didn't bother trying to walk, but crawled on all four towards the kitchen.

"I suppose I should get him something to eat." Harry said, taking the boy's hint. Chuckling, Ginny agreed.

"I'll just get Albus. We can have lunch together, the four of us." Smiling faintly, Harry nodded.

"That'll be a first…"


	3. Chapter 3

"Happy birthday!" The small kitchen was full to breaking point with relatives as the oldest Potter son turned three years old. His little face was reddish by all the attention he was receiving, and he placed his small hands in front of his eyes as everyone cheered for him.

"Come on, Jamie, time for presents!" Of course, these words would catch any toddler's ear, and he quickly jumped up and hurried into the living room, followed by his parents, Harry carrying Albus on his hip and Ginny with a hand on her stomach (which had a small bump on it), Arthur and Molly Weasley, Ron and Hermione, they too carrying small children, eleven year old Teddy Lupin and Hagrid, who did his best not to get in the way. Harry and Ginny had decided that they could hardly invite the entire family, and so they went for the more obvious people. Sitting down in the middle of the floor, James looked excitedly at his parents. Hagrid had placed himself in a corner, beaming at the small boy; Arthur and Molly were sitting on the couch, with Teddy between them, and Hermione and Ron put their kids down on the floor by Albus, and the three started playing in a flash.

"Here, start wiv mine." Hagrid said in his booming voice, handing the little boy a roughly wrapped parcel, with thin strings holding the paper together. James snatched in from his hands and started ripping off the paper.

"James…" Ginny said, raising her eyebrows. Avoiding her face, James looked over at Hagrid and smiled a small smile.

"Fank you." He said in a sweet voice, before continuing where he'd left off. The present turned out to be a snitch, though made of wood. It was quite small, and beautifully carved with long, slender wings.

"Made it me self. Took ages." Hagrid said.

"It's wonderful!" Ginny exclaimed, giving Hagrid a hug for her son. James studied it closely, before smiling again at Hagrid and carefully depositing the small object on the carpet next to him (though Harry was quick to move it onto a table, making sure no one would step on it by accident).

"Here you go, Jamie." Hermione said kindly, bending down and handing him a small, neatly wrapped gift.

"Fanks, Auntie 'Mione." James said, remembering what his Mum had encouraged minutes earlier. Tearing the paper, the boy revealed a small, brown box. Looking inquiringly at his Aunt, she instructed him to open it. Doing as he was told, James lifted the lid, and out came a miniature Quidditch player, zooming around the room on a small, yet realistic broom. Staring wide eyed at the toy, James stood to try and catch it. Running around the room, with his hands stretched out, he laughed loudly. Ron chuckled, catching Harry's eye, and they both bit their tongue's not to fall into complete hysterics. Eventually, the boy caught up with the little man, and swiftly plucked it out of the air.

"It's not particularly fragile." Hermione ensured at Ginny's glance. "It's made for that kind of thing."

"Brilliant. Though, does it ever stop flying?" Ginny asked.

"Oh yes, once he gets tired he'll calm down. Make sure he sleeps at night, that's all." They all laughed at this.

"Great, a fourth kid, just what I need." Harry remarked sarcastically.

"Here, James, open mine." Teddy said, a twinkle in his eye as he extracted a lumpy object from his bag.

"Teddy, you didn't need to…" Harry started.

"It's okay, Uncle Harry, it's really nothing much." The young boy blushed as he gave away the gift. It turned out to be a large bag of sweets: Ice mice, Liquorice wands, Droobles Chewing Gum, Chocolate frogs and Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans. One of the mice was suddenly in James' mouth, but before he had time to consume any more, his grandmother grabbed the bag from him.

"You'll thank me later." She said to Harry and Ginny. James only looked remotely disturbed by being robbed of his candy, but quickly forgot about it as Arthur handed him the next gift. Inside was a dark blue, knitted sweater with a large, yellow J on the front.

"You should have one too." Molly said, smiling softly at her grandson. Also, there was a small, leather pouch, containing two galleons. "You're a big boy now, you could do with some money of your own." James' eyes were like saucers as he stared at the golden coins. He reached up and let Molly hug him, before he turned the coins over and over in his hands.

"Molly…" Harry said softly, his face filled with pain.

"Don't start Harry." She warned. "I want to give him something."

"But I-"

"Don't." Harry decided to leave the matter, but still couldn't help feeling absolutely awful about Molly giving away that money. He knew too well she needed it.

"Right." Ginny said, rummaging about in the hallway. "You'll be getting this one present, Jamie, but both your dad and I believe you'll have loads more fun with this than with another ten objects we could've bought for you." Again, the oldest Potter son widened his gaze, craning his neck to see what Ginny had behind her back. "Now, it's loosely wrapped, but it's still an obvious thing, so I'd like you to close your eyes." She needn't say it twice: James had closed his brown eyes before she'd even completed the sentence. With eager arms extended in front of him, Ginny placed the present in his hands. When James opened his eyes, the paper fell off and showed a broom: small, perfect for a young lad to fly around on.

"Happy birthday, little guy." Harry said, ruffling his son's hair. James squealed, and looked up at his dad.

"Can I use it? Now?"

"Why don't you go outside?" The broom tightly in his hand, James raced out of the room and into the garden. The rest of them followed hastily, to not miss his very first flight on his very first broom. Gathering along the wall of the house, they watched as James mounted the broomstick, and holding on tightly. Taking a deep breath, he then kicked off from the ground. As it was a children's broom, it only ascended about three or four feet above the ground, but it didn't matter to James. His whole face pictured raw happiness, and he shrieked excitedly as he dodged his onlookers and tried to go as fast as possible.

"It looks like you've passed on something more than your unruly hair to this one." Molly said pointedly as James flew past them again.

"Bloody hell." Ron exclaimed as James nearly knocked him off his feet. "Erm, I didn't say anything." He looked nervously at the young kids, none of which seemed to have noticed his words. Breathing out in relief, Hermione shot him an icy look. "What?"

"Can't you learn to _not_ say that when the kids are around?"

"I don't normally! I was nearly flattened by James, you can't seriously blame me for slipping up."

"Well I just thought that maybe, after two years, that you'd have learned."

"Oh, Hermione, come on…" _Well, that bickering takes one back_, Harry thought, smiling fondly at the memories of his two best friends arguing. Of course, this reminded him of the rather unfortunate growing up he'd endured. All deaths, losses, tragedies, scandals… _Merlin's beard. I should write a book_, Harry snorted to himself before ducking as to not get run over by the thrilled little boy on his new broom.

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**Shortish chapter, but it should end there, don't you think? :))**  
**Please do review, I love your feedback!**

**M. Sunshine**


	4. Chapter 4

"James, stop it!" the three-year old whimpered, his green eyes darting between his brother, the scissors and the grey teddy bear in the other boy's hand. James Potter had made a habit of tormenting his brother, and found it very satisfying when his parents missed it: both Harry and Ginny were thoroughly occupied by the newest addition to the family: a small, round-faced baby girl, with red hair, brown eyes and barely a year of life behind her. So, partly because of the lack of attention James was receiving, he messed with Albus, who was suddenly on the verge of tears.

"Please…" He begged, the salty water leaking from his eyes and quickly tracing down his chubby cheeks. Albus was only three, and his face still very much a toddler's. Noticing his little brother's distress, James scowled, and thrust the bear into Al's hands.

"Fanks." Said the younger Potter, his voice muffled from behind the synthetic fur. James only snorted, fiddling the pair of scissors. He was well aware of the fact that he'd be in major trouble if his mum caught him with them. Ginny had clearly emphasized the danger of such tools, in a simple yet firm way to ensure her young sons understood. Of course, the forbidden intrigued, and James was a curious boy. However, he did not have a death wish, so he left the den, scissors held tightly in his right hand, and started for the stairs. On the landing, he met his dad, who was ascending with a blanket in his hand. Harry stopped upon seeing his son; James hurriedly hid his hand behind his small back.

"James. Where are you heading?" he asked his son, ruffling his dark hair with his free hand.

"Down." James replied shortly, his eyes wide.

"Okay then. Hey, where's your brother?" James fidgeted, eager to leave this interrogation and replace the scissors, which felt searing hot in his hand.

"In the den." Harry smiled.

"Good. Well, I need to check on your sister, so…" Harry walked up and past James, who was quick on shifting the scissors to his front. Biting his tongue, he headed down.

"Oh, James?" Spinning around, he saw his father smirking slightly at him. "You know you're not supposed to be using the scissors." His ears went red in guilt as he avoided his father's eyes. Harry, however, seemed to be fighting the urge to smile widely. He knew well of his oldest son's mischief, and knew also that James would've been very careful with the object in his hands. Despite this, though, it wasn't particularly responsible to let a four-year old have free access to a pair of sharp scissors.

"You'd better put those back where you found them." He continued. "And don't let me catch you with them again." He winked at the blushing boy and then headed for his and Ginny's bedroom, from which a piercing cry had just been heard. James rushed down the stairs, turned sharply to the right and trotted into the kitchen, placing the gleaming scissors in the top drawer. Once they were securely put away, James heaved a sigh. _At least daddy wasn't angry_, he thought, leaving the kitchen in search of something to do. Dropping his small body onto the sofa, James looked around the living room. He knew Albus wouldn't want to play, not after the older brother had tried to murder the younger's teddy bear. Both his parents were distracted by his little sister, Lily, who was constantly demanding Harry and Ginny's presence. This meant he'd just have to something on his own to do. He had plenty of toys in the den, but Al was probably there. Flying on his miniature broom was also an option, though he would have to ask his mum for it first, and given the amount of the stress she was in, James was old enough to understand she'd rather not be disturbed. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sight of what was on the small table next to the armchair. Ginny's wand was lying innocently on the dark wood. The thin stick seemed to glow, making everything else in the room appear lifeless and dull. Without thinking twice, James rose from where he was sitting and snuck up to the table. Would his mum realise soon that it was missing? James didn't really think about that; most four-year olds tend to act before they think. If they think about it at all, that is. With a trembling hand, he reached out and closed his fingers around the wand. It felt long and strange in his soft, small hands. Eyes wide with excitement, he placed it in his right hand. Somewhere, he knew he wasn't allowed to touch it, let alone try and use it, but of course, curiosity beat sensibility. He'd seen his father do magic countless times, and it looked easy enough. Obviously, James didn't know any spells or charms, but thought he'd amuse himself with flourishing the wand for a bit. Gripping tightly, he swished it in a wide circle and then snapped downward. Immediately, the mirror in the far end of the room (on which the wand had been accidentally aimed) exploded, sending sharp shards of glass flying. It caused quite a bang, and James felt glass cutting into his cheek. Wincing, he dropped his mother's wand onto the floor and clutched the left side of his face. From upstairs, he heard a door being thrown ajar, and feet charging down into the sitting room. Taking the scene in, Ginny rushed over to her son and enveloped him in a soft hug.

"Jamie, sweetheart, are you all right?" asked his mum, crouching down to position her face in line with James'. Shaking his head, he carefully revealed his cheek, showing a bleeding, but thankfully shallow, cut. Sighing gently, Ginny reached into her pocket for her wand, which, of course, was not there. Looking almost panicky, she stood up. However, before she could utter a single word, Harry (who'd quietly walked up behind them) cleared his throat.

"Looking for this?" he asked, twiddling his wife's wand with in his right hand.

"Where did you find it?" she asked, creasing her forehead while accepting it back.

"It was on the floor." Harry pinned James down with a neutral expression that still made his son turn a deep crimson, all the way to the tips of his ears. Ginny frowned deeply.

"Maybe it fell out... And what in the name of Merlin caused that explosion?" All these questions were making James feel uneasy. As if just remembering, Ginny turned to the destroyed mirror and said: "_Reparo_." The pieces of glinting glass went flying back into place, and soon the mirror looked as good as new.

"I don't know… It could've been someone going through the Floo network, that's been known to sometimes disturb houses along the way. Well, I'll investigate shall I? Why don't you put the kettle on and fetch Lily and Albus?" Ginny smiled, but before she left she looked down at her son, pointing her wand at him. James flinched, but with a small flick, the cut started healing, and within seconds it looked days old, a scab already feeling off. Ruffling his hair, Ginny then headed for the kitchen. Once she'd left, and he heard the kettle boiling, Harry pulled James over to the couch, sat the boy down and the placed himself beside his son. James looked guilt ridden, and for the second time that day, twenty-nine year old Harry forced himself not to smile at his son.

James mumbled something into his lap.

"Come again?"

"I'm sorree, daddy." He whispered, restlessly placing his hands under his thighs. _Why do they have to look so damn cute?_ Harry thought irritably.

"Jamie, you know you're not allowed to use our wands." He said, his voice soft yet stern.

"I know…"

"Then why did you do it?" Harry found everything was more difficult with James, because he was the oldest, thus the first to grow up. With Al and Lily it was easier, as he'd already gone through those stages of childhood before, with his oldest son. He wasn't sure is he was speaking to James in the correct way, if the boy was old enough to actually reflect on his decisions and realise where head been wrong. On the other hand, Harry was well aware of how awful it was when adults babied you, and he was adamant on always letting his children explain themselves.

"I was bored." The boy confessed, looking up at his dad. "I didn't think anything wouwd happen." His voice adopted a tone making the kid sound a lot younger. Harry wondered if it was unintentional, or just a sneaky trick. Looking into those brown eyes, though, he was certain it wasn't the latter.

"James, I don't care if you're bored mad, you must _never_ touch mummy or daddy's wands." Said Harry. "You know that was a very naughty thing to do." He continued, deliberately using a childish word to drive the message home.

"I'm sowwy." He murmured. Sighing, Harry ruffled his son's hair.

"It's alright. Just don't go near them again. There's a reason you don't get a wand until you start school. They can be very dangerous if you don't know what you're doing." James nodded, scratching at the almost-healed cut, before wrapping his arms around his dad and leaning his head against Harry's chest. The older Potter stroked the small head of black hair gently, his entire body warming at the touch from this small boy. Then, Ginny stuck her head in through the door.

"C'mon, time for…" She trailed off when seeing her oldest son curled up on his father's lap. Letting her shoulder hit the wall, she watched the two silently, mentally archiving the image and hoped it was one she would never forget.

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**Wohoo c:**  
**Okay, if I failed miserably with this, please tell me! It's hard writing Harry as a parent like that, and I've had people before saying "_But he wouldn't be like that, he'd joke with his kids and let them do anything_." Seriously? He's an adult, and he loves his kids. Merlin's beard... Anyway.**  
**Please review, means a lot!**

**M. Sunshine.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hiya!**  
**So sorry for the delay, my internet's been having a few hissy fits recently. Anyway, chapter five for you!**  
**I hope you all enjoyed it, please do review and remember: Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus!**

**M. Sunshine**

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One early Saturday morning, James awoke before anyone else. In a quick movement he sat up in his bed, involuntarily yawning widely. As he stood, his eyesight blackened for a second, and he wobbled a bit before regaining his sight and balance. James padded over to the window, and peered out. The sun had barely made its way up on the sky, and even though he had yet to learn how to tell the time, he realised it was very early indeed. He slid his feet into his slippers and walked out of his room, into the hallway and down the stairs. The house was completely silent, and James headed indecisively into the kitchen. Everything seemed so big when the room was empty, and almost like time had been frozen.

"What are you doing up?" Ginny's voice startled James, who spun around. She smiled softly. "Good morning."

"Oh… Morning, mum." Until rather recently, James had always called her 'mummy', but now he only did it whenever he wanted something and occasionally if he was in trouble.

"Why are you up so early? It's only seven o'clock."

"I couldn't go back to sleep." He replied, and sat down as his mum filled the kettle.

"Excited about today, perhaps?" asked Ginny, tapping the kettle with her wand to turn it on (in the wizarding world, there's no such things as power cuts). That day, Harry was taking James to Hogsmeade. It might've seemed a bit strange, as it was a whole lot further than to Diagon Alley, but George had asked him to set up some extra wards around the shop there: shoplifters were getting very common and George was hardly very good with spells of that level. So Harry decided to bring his son with him: ever since James had found out his dad was going, he'd been begging to come. Al had been asked if he wanted to come along too, but he hadn't really fancied it. Also, the younger of the Potter brothers didn't do very well with Floo-ing, so it was really for the best.

"Yeah. When are we going?"

"Not until noon, sweetheart. Your dad is still asleep." James sighed heavily, making his mum chuckle.

"You should've slept longer, Jamie." She smiled, poring milk into the cup of tea she'd just made.

"Do you want anything?" The boy thought for a minute before nodding.

"Toast. Please."

"Toast it is, then."

* * *

"Daddy, please!" It was later that morning, and the entire Potter family were sitting around the table: Lily in a high chair, giggling furiously because Al was tickling her now and then. After James had had a small breakfast with his mum, he'd gone upstairs to get dressed, before returning to the kitchen when the rest of the family arrived. Harry sighed and put his hot cup of coffee down.

"James, really. We'll be going at around noon, and it's only just past nine." He said patiently, as his eldest son had been nagging him about going earlier for over half an hour. It was Saturday: Harry wanted a calm morning.

"But Uncle George wouldn't mind us coming early." The boy pressed on.

"No, but I don't want to rush." He felt his patience draining and found it hard to concentrate on the article he was reading.

"But daddy, we-"

"I said no, James." He interrupted firmly, meeting his son's soft, brown eyes. James pouted and crossed his arms defiantly. Harry looked at his wife and rolled his eyes. Ginny shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Lily!" Albus suddenly shrieked. The little girl had grabbed a handful of her brother's hair, and was tugging it with a wide grin on her chubby face.

"Don't do that, sweetie." Ginny said, guiding Lily's hand away from Al's head, the latter looking almost tearful, though he quickly bowed his head and stared intently at his bowl of cereal. Harry reached across the table and pinched the boy's nose lightly. Albus snapped his heap up, and the hurt expression left his face.

"Knew I could make you smile." He winked at the green-eyed boy, as the corners of his mouth twitched. A tap on the window caught everyone's attention. George Weasley's grey owl was sitting perched on the ledge outside, a neat scroll tied to its leg. Ginny, with Lily on her hip, walked over to the window and let the bird in. It hopped straight through and flapped over to Harry. Putting the _Daily Prophet_ down, he untied and unrolled the letter. James watched his father's eyes dart across the page.

"Dad…" he started, but Harry held out a finger. James silenced, still looking at his dad. Eventually sighing, Harry summoned a pencil, scribbled a quick reply under the quilled note and sent the owl away with it.

"George wants me at one instead. Apparently some suppliers are coming around eleven, and he wants to be rid of them before I arrive." Though James couldn't tell the time by looking at a watch, he knew perfectly well that one o'clock was an hour later than noon.

"Right. Well, you'll have more time to get ready then. Although-" Ginny's words were cut off by James' groan.

"Another hour? But I've waited for ages!"

"It's hardly your father's fault that your uncle is busy." Ginny said rather snappishly, obviously annoyed by her son's interruption.

"James, what did I just tell you?"

"But daddy, it's _another_ hour now!"

"We'll be going at noon." Harry returned to his paper.

"But Uncle George's letter said we had to wait 'til one. That's stupid! He said noon before, he can't just change it!" the boy practically yelled.

"James Potter, lower your voice. Your uncle has every right to change the time. I simply thought we would go at noon and have a look around until he wants me." James' eyes lit up. "However," Harry continued, "If you're going to keep interrupting your mum and yelling at me, then maybe you should stay in your room for the day." The boy's face fell and he mumbled something.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm sorry, daddy."

"That's perfectly all right." Returning, once again, to the newspaper, Harry smiled. _Boys_.

* * *

When noon finally arrived, James was bouncing in front of the fireplace. His father was in the kitchen, writing a quick letter to someone at work. When done, he sent it away with a Ministry owl, grabbed his jacket and wand and walked through to the living room. The sight he met was rather amusing: James was standing a mere two feet from the fireplace, and it looked as if it was an achievement for him to not move, as he was trembling from head to toe. When he realised his dad had entered, and looked like he was ready to leave, he started bouncing again.

"Are we going now? Is it noon?" he shot, almost stumbling on his words. Harry chuckled.

"Yes, we're going now." He directed his wand at the fireplace, and orange flames appeared, licking the already sooty stone. Harry then opened a small cabinet, standing at the wall and withdrew a small, black pot, containing the greenish grey powder that enabled wizards and witched everywhere to travel miles in but a few seconds. His oldest son had only Floo-d once, and together with his mum. He quickly decided that he'd take James with him, as he thought he still looked a bit small to be going on his own. Besides, it was easy to go wrong when Floo-ing and he'd rather his five-year-old didn't end up in some stranger's house. After having put his jacket on, Harry grabbed a handful of Floo powder, put the pot away and approached the fire.

"Right then. Come here, James." The words had barely left his mouth and the boy was by his side. Grabbing his son firmly around his small arm, Harry threw the powder into the fire, which turned green.

"Hogsmeade." He stated clearly and stepped into the flames. They spun in a terrific speed, and James couldn't determine whether he preferred to have his eyes opened or closed. Soon he felt as though he might be sick, but when he pinched his eyes shut the spinning stopped, and he found himself wobbling on the wooden floor of the pub the Three Broomsticks. A hand grasped him lightly around his upper arm.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked. James nodded, still unsure of if he dared open his mouth. He looked around: the pub was simply decorated, completely in fine, dark wood. The occasional painting hung on the walls, along with several candleholders, in which yellowish candles were lit. It was surprisingly empty: one witch was sitting at the bar, a dim expression on her wrinkled face; two wizards conversing in murmurs in a corner and-

"Harry! I haven' seen yeh in ages!" Rubeus Hagrid knocked several chairs over as he approached the father and son, enveloping the older in a rib-crushing hug. His once brown mane of hair was greying in more places than ever, and he could no longer move as quickly. However, he seemed in good health.

"Hagrid." Harry choked as the half-giant released him. James hid instinctively behind his dad. He'd met Hagrid several times before, but he'd always scared him a little.

"It's great ter see yeh." Said Hagrid, beaming down at Harry.

"Yeah, it's good to see you too." Grinned Harry, noticing James behind him.

"James, come on." The boy peeked around the corner, and Hagrid spotted him.

"Yeh brought James, too." He exclaimed, grinning even wider as he gazed down upon the boy. "He does look a lo' like yeh." He said, winking at Harry. "Well, I'd best be off. I need to buy some stuff fore Professor McGonagall. See yeh later!" He waved and disappeared out into the busy street.

"What're you doing back there?" Harry placed a hand on his son's small back and guided him through the door, out into the fresh air. In his peripheral vision, Harry saw James stare with wide eyes at the shops they passed.

"Look! … Oh, whoa… What's _that_? ... Cool!" Harry rolled his eyes, but smiled, at the boy's reaction. He then stopped outside Honeyduke's Sweetshop.

"Want to go in?"

"Yeah!" James exclaimed enthusiastically and pushed the door to the sweetshop open. Of course, on a Saturday, the shop was absolutely _packed_ with people. Harry found the amount of people annoying, but James didn't seem to mind at all: he shot from one shelf to another, grabbing countless goodies. Eventually, his dad managed to grab the collar of his shirt to stop his collecting.

"I think you have more than enough, son." He said, smirking at the pouting boy.

"Okay…" Was all a solemn James said as Harry paid for all the sweets. He handed the bag to his son as they left the shop, and James instantly picked up a liquorice wand and started chewing it.

"Don't eat it all at once." Harry warned. James merely nodded as they trudged along, glancing in all the windows while making their way to George's shop.

* * *

"Erm… Harry?" George caught his brother-in-law's attention and pointed behind him. James had finished the large bag of sweets and was now bounding around the joke shop like there was no tomorrow: climbing the ladders, jumping off them, running around, singing and doing anything equally mental he could think of.

"Bloody hell." Muttered the older Potter, pausing in his job of securing the new wards he'd put up around the store. Charging into the main shop (which George had closed for an hour to allow Harry to work in peace) he got hold of his son's arm and pulled him to an abrupt halt.

"James!" he groaned, seeing the boy's manic expression. "Didn't I tell you to take it easy with the sweets?"

"What sweets? I haven't any sweets. Do you have sweets? I like sweets!" he chanted back.

"Now that," George said, smiling smugly, "is one hell of a sugar rush."


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey!**  
**Totally sorry it's taken so long. I've had a bit of a writer's block on this one, and really struggled to get it done. Besides that, I have tons of school work to do, so... Sorry!**  
**Please review, always makes my day!**

**M. Sunshine**

* * *

The spring sun was shining brightly over the row of houses as the two six-year-old boys were strolling along. James, together with his newly found friend, Marcus, also a wizard, was trying desperately to find something to do. His parents had apparently gone mental and wanted to completely clean the house out. At first they'd wanted James to help, but it didn't take long to realise he'd probably just be in the way, so, rather haughtily, Ginny had shooed him out of the house. Grumpily, he'd stalked around the garden and spotted Marcus in the next-door garden. Both being exceptionally bored, they decided to find something to get up to, together.

"This is getting dull." Marcus complained as they sat down on a low, wooden bench in the nearby playground.

"I know." James snapped back at him, folding his arms resolutely. He mentally cursed his little brother for being who he was: _he_ hadn't been forced out of the house. _No_, ickle Albus was probably sitting quietly in the garden with one of his small children's books. He snorted.

"Can't we ask your mum for your broom?" Marcus asked, having always been silently jealous of James' most prized possession.

"No, she says I can't use it without someone watching." He grumbled. There was a minute silence, before Marcus' face lit up.

"I know! Let's prank Mr Elliott!" Mr Elliott was an elderly, Muggle man who lived two doors down from Marcus, three from the Potter's. He was known as the grumpy old fellow of the neighbourhood, and most people tended to stay away from him. Since his wife had passed away three years ago, he rarely left his house and shouted at anyone who came near it.

"Well…" James had always been a bit scared of the old man, even though both his parents snorted at this and told him not to worry. Mr Elliott always walked around his garden, muttering, his back hunched and his knobbly cane in his hand as he made his way around.

"Come on, James, we're both bored rotten anyway!" Marcus encouraged, his eyes gleaming with the thought of agonising the man.

"Oh, all right then." The Potter boy agreed, and they immediately started plotting.

* * *

So, James Potter was not the most imaginative boy around. On the other hand, he was only six and hadn't really got the hang of things yet. He was certain he'd make his Uncle George proud one day. Together with Marcus, he snuck up to the old man's house, and slipped through the old gate. Careful to avoid the gravelled path, they made their way around the house to the back garden. Mr Elliott was currently attacking a particularly stubborn weed in one of his impeccably kept flower beds. Marcus sniggered, and James elbowed him in the ribs to make him shut up. Marcus nudged him back, but this time to get his attention. With an eager gesture, he pointed to a small table, standing on the recently mown lawn. On the surface was a cup, which James guessed contained coffee. _Good enough_. He nudged his friend.

"See the mug?" he whispered. Marcus nodded. "Let's fill it with dirt." They both snickered, and Marcus carefully grabbed a handful of the moist soil from a nearby flowerbed. "How do we do it?" Marcus asked. James hadn't thought about this, but what happened next just sort of came naturally. James took the dirt from his friend and let it go in midair. It stayed put. Marcus eyes went wide.

"You're using magic?" James was just as gobsmacked as Marcus.

"I guess I am." He said. It was the first time he'd ever used "accidental magic". _Without a wand,_ he thought astonished. His parents had spoken a bit about this happening, but he'd never really expected to be able to do any kind of magic without a wand. And considering what had happened two years earlier, he wasn't in any rush to nick his mum or dad's. Not even thinking to do anything, the dirt swiftly levitated to the table, and with a _splosh_ it landed in the hot drink.

"Cool, James." The other boy whispered, his eyes still like saucers.

"Yeah…" he agreed slowly, still looking flabbergasted. Mr Elliott hadn't noticed a thing.

"Come on." Marcus said, and the twinkle in his eyes was clear evidence that he had an idea. James quietly followed him, and they stopped by the man's front door.

"My dad told me Muggles have these alarms that go peeping when someone tries to break in." he said excitedly. "We should make his go off!"

"Yeah! How do we do that?" Marcus shrugged, but silently opened the front door and instantly spotted the white burglar alarm. He looked at it for a moment.

"I wish I knew how this worked… It'd be so much easier if it just-" But his words were drowned in the sudden shrieking noise.

"Magical!" he laughed, and they both charged into the bushes behind the house. Mr Elliot was limping along with his walking stick, yelling loudly about "blasted miscreants". There was a lot of hustle and bustle before he managed to turn the alarm off, and once again walked out into the sunshine, looking surlier than ever.

"… call the police, these kids are getting on me' nerves…" he muttered, grabbing his coffee cup. James held his breath. The man lifted the cup and threw his head back, taking a deep gulp. But as soon as he felt it in his mouth the sputtered and dropped the cup.

"What is this foul-" He was cut off short when Marcus burst out laughing, and he noticed the two boys crouching in the bushes. "Why you little brats!" he exclaimed, and came running (well, that might be an overstatement, but he moved as fast as his legs would let him) after the two boys, who were laughing openly. When they reached the playground the old man had long since stopped, and was limping back to his garden, still cursing loudly.

"Brilliant, Marc." James panted, doubling over with laughter.

"You too, Jay." He replied, grinning widely. "Too bad he saw us."

"What d'you mean?" James asked, sitting down on a swing, moving slowly back and forth.

"He's sure to tell my dad." He said, rolling his eyes (rather an achievement for the young boy).

"And…"

"Well, he'll kill me, for sure." Marcus laughed, swinging high in the air.

"I suppose… My dad won't find out."

"Yeah right! If Mr Elliott doesn't tell him, dad will."

"You'd never rat me out."

"Well…" Marcus said, looking positively mortified. "I mean, mum can get really mad…" James snorted.

"Some friend you are."

"Come on…"

"Aw, drop it." He said, waving his hand. He wasn't one to hold a grudge.

"Sure…" The sun was getting low and red, so Marcus declared he ought to go home.

"Let's face the music!" he said dramatically. They laughed and headed home, saying goodbye as Marcus walked in and James continued to the next house. He opened the door and headed inside.

"Where've you been?" Ginny asked as she hurried past, a laundry basket in her arms.

"I played with Marcus." He replied, kicking his shoes off and following her up the stairs.

"Oh yeah? You have fun?"

"A-ha." He answered. Ginny placed the basket at the top of the stairs and turned, smilingly, to her eldest son.

"What did you do then?" she asked.

"Nothing special. Went to the playground and stuff."

"Well I'm glad you found something to do." She said, before picking up the basket again and going to sort everything out. James stayed behind, not sure where to go. Eventually he walked back downstairs and into the living room, where his dad was sitting with Lily.

"No, no, no, Lily, give me that." Harry hastened to say, as Lily had reached for his wand. James shook his head. Rookie mistake. Harry placed the wand safely on the table, before looking up at James. "Hey James. How're you doing?"

"Good." He shrugged, sitting down on the couch.

"Have fun today?"

"Yeah."

"With Marcus, I presume?" He nodded. Just then, the telephone rang (Ginny hated the thing, but Harry insisted it was a good thing to have). Harry rose to answer it. "Keep an eye on your sister for a minute, will you?" James nodded, and sat on the floor next to the girl.

"Hi Lily." He said softly. The girl smiled, showing her small white teeth.

"'Ames." She said happily.

"S'right. What're you doing?"

"Playin'." The girl replied casually. Just then, Albus entered.

"Hello James." He said.

"Hey Al." he said, not taking his eyes of the small girl. Not long after Al, Harry reappeared.

"Erm, James?"

"Yup?"

"May I speak with you for a second?" James nodded his agreement and followed Harry into the kitchen. "That was Marcus' dad on the phone." James didn't fully get how the telephone worked, but inclined his head anyway. "Apparently, a very angry Mr Elliott had called him and said that you and Marcus set off his burglar alarm, as well as put dirt in his coffee." James _really_ wanted to snicker, but refrained from doing so. "Well?"

"You should have _seen_ it, dad!" he exclaimed. "He actually drank the coffee, and that alarm thing was _awesome_!"

"James! You actually did these things?"

"Yeah, it was _brilliant_!"

"But you can't do things like that." Harry said in an exasperated voice. "It's… wrong."

"But we were bored, dad." He contradicted. "And we didn't hurt anyone?"

"James, you have to understand that you can't just go off into someone's house." Harry said firmly.

"But we didn't actually-"

"To turn that alarm on you'd have had to be inside." Harry interrupted. "How did you do it anyway?"

"Marcus did it." He shrugged. "With magic?"

"Magic?"

"Yeah."

"And the dirt?"

"Also magic, though that was me. Did you know you can do magic without a wand?" Harry opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again.

"You used magic?" James nodded excitedly. "Your first… Do you remember about what I told you about accidental magic?"

"Not really…"

"Young witches and wizards can't control their magic when they're little.

"Hey! I'm not little!" Harry rolled his eyes.

"Sure. Anyway. It happens to everyone, but when you get your wand you have to learn to not let your temper get the better of you." James nodded, slightly mesmerised.

"But honestly, James, you shouldn't have done what you did." James didn't move an inch, nor did he change his expression.

"We were bored." He repeated.

"But that doesn't make it okay do go terrorise a poor old man."

"But he's always so grumpy! He could use some terrorism to get him to cheer up!" Harry felt the corners of his mouth twitch.

"Come on, trouble, let's go find your mum." He said eventually, ruffling the boy's hair as they exited the sunlit kitchen.


	7. Chapter 7

**Oh, this was fun writing! Didn't take too long; I had the idea planned out.**  
**Okay, so I know James seems to be getting into a lot of trouble but... I figured he would be more like James Sr, what with having proper parents and a real growing up. Harry might've been, too, had James and Lily not been killed.**  
**Anyway, please review, makes my day!**

**M. Sunshine**

* * *

James was in a bad mood. It seemed like he was a lot lately. _All mum and dad do is fuss over Al and Lily_, he thought grumpily. This was not entirely true, though. Harry and Ginny spent time with all their children, and James often brushed them away when they asked if he wanted to do something. When they asked, he was far too old for such things. But when they were busy, James was always bored senseless. Now that he was a bit older, he really couldn't _wait_ to go to Hogwarts. It would be fantastic to get out of the house and spend his year in the legendary school of magic.

"But mum, pleeeease!" James whinged, trotting after his mother through the house.

"James, no." Ginny said exasperatedly. "I'm busy, and dad is with Al at the shops. You'll have to wait." James had been begging Ginny for almost an hour about being allowed to fly on his toy broom. As Harry was out, and Ginny did not have the time to supervise him, she had told him no. Obviously, that answer wouldn't do for the bored boy.

"But I haven't anything to do." He sighed, looking at her with his best puppy-dog-eyes. Ginny rubbed her temples.

"James, I know you're bored, and I'm sorry. But not right now, okay? When dad gets home you can fly on your broom, but until then you'll just have to find something else to do." Weekends were awful, Ginny thought. When she and Harry worked the same hours, the kids would stay with her parents or one of their uncles. She loved having them with her, but James was really stubborn.

"But mum…"

"No, James!" she stated firmly and then headed into the kitchen. James scowled viciously and then stomped up to his room, slamming the door after him, which made him feel just a little bit better. He slumped down on his bed and folded his arms defiantly, staring into the wall. It was so _typical_. Of _course_ no one had time for him. He wished really badly that they could visit Hugo and Rose, but he knew if his mum didn't have time to play with him she would hardly have time to go and visit her brother. He was made even angrier when he realised his dad hadn't even invited him along with them to go to the shops. He'd probably had said no at the time, but still. Drastic boredom called for drastic measures, James mentally decided after a few minutes of sulking. Because, honestly, would his mum ever found out if he took a quick fly on his broom, chasing his toy snitch? Of _course_ not! Why would she? He'd stay outside in the garden, and be really careful.

Nodding to himself, he jumped off the bed again, and made his way quietly through the house. He could hear Ginny talking to Lily from his sister's bedroom, and easily sauntered down the stairs and to the cupboard that held the family's brooms. Al had a toy one, too, but Lily did not, just yet. Ginny had argued that she was, in fact, old enough to have one, but Harry had said he would not have his baby girl flying around until she was older. Ginny had thought he was a hypocrite, and to that he had said: "I'll pass that one." And walked away.

James opened the door (which they never locked, as it had never been an issue) and grabbed his own broom, which felt soft and familiar in his hand. In a box on the floor, he found his toy Snitch (which was slightly smaller, and silver), which he also grabbed and popped in his pocket, before shutting the door again and making his way out into the back garden. Once out in the fresh air, he mounted his broom and kicked off. It rose, at the highest, six feet off the ground. He used to watch with clear envy when his father and uncles flew higher and higher, but figured he would just have to wait until he got a real broom for that. This was his second toy one, which was marginally larger than his first. He flew a few times around the mown lawn before letting the small silver ball go. It zoomed away and he spent several long minutes happily chasing after it. Eventually, he saw it whisk over to the house and straight in through the open window. He slowed down, and frowned thoughtfully. Hopefully, his mum wouldn't notice the Snitch flying around. Not that she would mind it, but she'd get suspicious and probably check if he was indeed flying without her there. So he would either have to get off the broom and run around the large house in search of it, or… Grinning mischievously to himself, he leaned forward and headed for the house.

Upon reaching the door, he stretched out a hand, opened it and flew inside. It had been years since he'd flown inside, and he wasn't really supposed to anymore, as he was a bit too big. He navigated rather carefully through the corridors, which held paintings and photographs on the walls, and made his way to the kitchen. The room was empty, and he did not spot his toy anywhere. Turning, he headed into the living room. There, above the coffee table, it was hovering contently. James leaned forward and stretched out an arm. Instantly, the Snitch moved away and started flying around the room, with James on it's tail. He was so focused on his task that he did not realise he was actually knocking things down in his mad hunt. Picture frames landed on the floor with small crashes, a vase broke in half on the soft carpet and the wooden chairs by the chess table fell onto their backs. It was all completely unintentional, but, of course, really stupid. After a few minutes, he caught the struggling ball in his right hand, and pulled to a halt, a victorious smile plastered on his face. He lowered himself to the ground, and as his feet touched the ground, he heard someone clear their throat. Whipping around, he found Harry standing in the doorway, his face showing disbelief and surprise. Behind him, Al was peeking around.

"James, what are you doin'?" the younger boy asked. "Why did you…"

"Not now, Al." Harry interrupted softly. "Come on; let's get these things into the kitchen." He gave James a look that clearly told him not to go anywhere. James looked around the room at the mess and sighed. For a bit of fun, he was probably going to have to pay a good price. It didn't take long until his dad reappeared, taking a good, long look around the room, before finally resting his eyes on his oldest son, still clutching his broom and his Snitch tightly. James tried to look apologetic, but it came out more like a small grimace.

"_What_ do you think you're doing, James?" He said after a while, crossing his arms, his brow knitted together in a frown. James fidgeted. "Well?"

"I was just bored." He said after a while. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Why is it," he started, "That whenever you're bored it always seems to end in you breaking things." He was clearly bringing back the time when James had stolen his mother's wand and blown up part of the very same room they were now in. James thought it was highly unfair of him to get this old incident out.

"Not fair!" he said. "That was years ago!"

"It doesn't matter when it was." Harry said. "Why can't you just play with your other toys, and not get into all of this trouble for once?"

"Where's the fun in that?" James muttered.

"I don't care if it was fun or not! Can't you just find fun things to do without destroying half the house, as well as doing something you know well you are not allowed to?" Harry felt extremely frustrated with his son. He didn't really get angry. He wasn't that kind of person, at least not when it came to his children. But he tried and failed to understand why his son repeatedly was in the wrong, often with the excuse that he was bored.

"I didn't mean to! The Snitch flew in here so I followed it. I was just going to stay outside."

"Did mum give you the broom?" asked Harry. James shook his head slowly. "Did you ask her for it?" Another shake of the seven-year-old's head. "James, haven't I told you not to fly without permission? I know you're good at it, but something could happen, and then what?" James shrugged. "Not to mention that you have, yet again, made a complete mess out of this room." James snorted.

"You'll just fix it with magic." He said nonchalantly. This _did_ make Harry angry.

"Just fix it with magic? What, so you think it's all right to break things because, oh, dad'll just fix it up again? Hmm?" He pressed. James didn't answer. "I will _not_ have you thinking magic can fix everything, because you are sorely mistaken. There will be times in life when you will find that even magic can't help you, and you'd best be prepared. Do you understand me?" James nodded furiously.

"Yes, sir."

"Now, let's try this again… You knew you weren't allowed to use the broom, let alone use it inside. What made you?" James sighed.

"I was bored, I told you. I know it was wrong… But I had fun." He added with a wry grimace.

"Well I hope you think the fun was worth it." With a couple of determined flicks of his wand, he sent the pictured back to their rightful place, mended the vase and got the chairs standing straight. He summoned a chair over to him, and motioned for James to sit down. The young boy did as he was told, though rather cautiously. Harry took his toys from him, and another flick of his wand sent the chair spinning and scooting across the floor before stopping, facing the corner. James turned, his eyes wide.

"Really, dad?" he said.

"Really. Now turn around, I don't want to hear another from you, young man." Scowling, James turned and slumped in the chair. Harry sighed and walked out into the hall, just as Ginny came down the stairs, Lily trailing after her.

"Hi sweetie." Harry gushed, picking up the smiling girl into his arms hugging her tightly. She giggled, and kissed his cheek.

"What's going on?" Ginny asked, a small crease on her forehead. "I heard noises, but reckoned it was you."

"No, that would have been James, wrecking the living room again." Her eyes went wide. "It's okay, I've dealt with it." She raised her eyebrows and looked into the living room, almost laughing out loud.

"Honestly, Harry?"

"What?" he said innocently. Then he sighed, moving his daughter into a more comfortable position. "I didn't know what to do. I never had parents, I never did the whole mischief thing." Ginny snorted sceptically. "Well, at least not in that sense." He said with a small smirk.

"But putting him in the corner?"

"I thought it would be rather effective." He said matter-of-factly. "Of course, he won't be using his broom for the next week either…" Ginny rolled her eyes but smiled.

"Come on, Lily. Let's go with daddy and start making lunch."


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi! Sorry for the awfully long wait. I was really stuck with this, so a huge thanks to Tielle Sommers, my awesome friend who helped me out a lot with this! (Ti was the brilliant person who came up with the name and plot for the movie as well as the whole hand-dryer thing [read the chapter and you'll see XD]).**  
**Please review, always makes my day!**

**M. Sunshine**

* * *

James was excited. It was Saturday, and his dad had said they were going to the cinema. Okay, for the average kid, this was probably not such a big deal. But for a young wizard who had never been to the movies before it was a great thing. A huge thing.

"REALLY?" he burst out when Harry told him.

"Yes, really." He smiled. "We'll go on Saturday."

"Is Al and Lily coming?"

"Lily's staying with mum, but Al's coming."

"This is going to be great!" he cheered and ran to tell his brother. Albus had smiled, but not seemed overly excited.

"Don't you get it, Al? We're going to the _cinema_!"

"I got that." The younger boy huffed.

"Then why are you acting all boring?"

"What's the big deal? It'll be fun, I guess." James sighed and rolled his eyes.

"You're weird." He stated and left his brother's room.

Finally, the time had come, and James was bouncing in front of the door with anticipation. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Calm down, Jamie. Al is just fetching his coat."

"We have to go, or we'll be late!" he exclaimed. His mum chuckled.

"You have plenty of time, love." James huffed and wrung his hands, waiting. Eventually, Al came trotting down the stairs, with Harry in tow.

"Finally! Come on, let's go!"

"All right, all right." Harry said in a mock stressed voice. The boy squealed in delight, and yanked the door open before rushing outside. They'd be driving into town, as there wasn't really an Apparition spot close enough to be of any value. Harry got his two sons safely into the car and once their seatbelts were secured he got into the driver's seat.

"Are we there yet?" James said after three minutes. Harry sighed and tried not to roll his eyes.

"It'll be a little while longer, James, all right?" The boy was silent for a moment before speaking again.

"How much longer?"

"I'm not sure. It depends on the traffic." He answered his son patiently.

"Can't you just floor it, dad?" Harry coughed.

"Excuse me?"

"Floor it." James repeated. "Isn't that the right way?"

"Well… Yes. But no, I will not."

"Why?" he whinged.

"James, really." He was trying to keep calm. "There's a speed limit, okay?"

"But we're going really slowly."

"No, we're not. We're actually going faster than most other cars on the road." James sniffed in discontentment.

"Then they're being really, _really_ slow." His dad didn't reply, just gripped the wheel tightly and kept his eyes on the road.

* * *

"What was the movie again?" Harry asked. The boys had chosen a film from the Muggle newspaper two days earlier. It was some new, animated Disney film, about a talking hippopotamus and his sidekick the llama who had to defeat the platypus before he took over the sea. Their dad thought they would've wanted to see something a bit less… childish, but both boys had shaken their heads in an affronted way when he said so, and he'd let the matter die.

"The fight for the Sea!" Albus piped up, actually looking excited now.

"Ah, that's right." Harry nodded and joined the queue. Fortunately, there weren't a lot of people there, and so buying the tickets went swiftly. Once they'd bought some sweets (which Albus and James thought were "wicked", as they were Muggle kinds, which they'd never had before) James followed his brother and father into the cinema theatre, staring in bewilderment as the ads were played on the enormous white screen at the front.

"Dad, what's that?" he whispered. Harry looked around to make sure no one had heard him: what Muggle eight year old would _not_ know what a white screen was?

"A screen. Sort of like the TV at home, yeah?" James nodded and sat down, still mesmerised by the huge moving pictures. Albus was sitting quietly on the other side of Harry, but the latter could see the boy's eyes were wide and trained on the screen. It wasn't long before the lights were dimmed and the actual movie began. Harry sat, trying not to laugh as the animated animals moved around: Bertha the Hippo, Lewis the Llama and Paul the Platypus being the main characters. About half way through, James bit his lip and leaned closer to his dad.

"Dad, I've gotta to the loo." He whispered. Harry chuckled softly.

"Do you know where it is?" James merely nodded and slipped past his dad and younger brother out of the theatre. The lights in the lobby hurt his eyes to begin with, but he soon got used to it and made his way to the bathrooms. When he'd washed his hands he was about to look around for paper towels. To his confusion, he couldn't seem to find anything. All that was on the wall was a white, square box with a silver ring at the bottom of it. James frowned and looked at it. With a small fist, he knocked on the box. It sounded hollow. His frown deepened, and he crouched down and looked up. He had time to see a hole inside the metal ring, but suddenly, hot air burst through said hole into his face. It surprised him so much he bolted up, consequently banging his head hard on the box. Letting a rather impressive string of swearwords slip from his mouth, he clutched his head. He machine had stopped blowing air just after he'd removed his head. James, who didn't really know anything about electricity, stared at the object. Deciding it was out to get him, he slammed his hand hard into the plastic. Unfortunately, it wasn't a particularly sturdy thing, and his punch resulted in it breaking of the wall, dangling precariously off the white tiles. He stared for a moment or two and then groaned. Well, that was just great. Just then, the door opened, and James spun around. He didn't know if he was pleased or horrified to see his dad standing inside the door.

"I was wondering why it-" He broke off mid-sentence and stared at the broken hand-dryer. "_James_…"

"Dad…" James whined. "I didn't mean to, I swear!"

"How on _Earth_ did you manage that?" Harry exclaimed, examining the damage.

"I said I didn't mean to…"

"That's not what I asked."

"I was just looking at it and it started blowing hot air at me! I banged my head on it when I stood up!"

"Of course it blew air at you, it's a hand-dryer!" Harry said.

"A hand-dryer?"

"To dry off your hands after you washed them?"

"Oh…" Harry felt a little bit bad. Of course James couldn't have known what it was. He sighed.

"How did you bang your head?"

"I was looking underneath it." He admitted sheepishly.

"Right. That still doesn't explain why it's now almost completely off the wall."

"Well I sort of punched it after that…" James said, an apologetic grimace on his young face.

"You punched it." Harry repeated, and it was a statement rather than a question. James nodded. "Well that was rather stupid, wasn't it?" James nodded, his eyes downcast. Harry sighed, and checking the door he quickly flipped his wand out. The non-verbal reparation charm immediately fixed the broken object.

"Now come along." He followed his father out of the bathrooms and back into the cinema theatre. Once James had taken his seat, he whispered for some sweets. Even though it was dark in the room, the flush on Albus' face was evident.

"You finished them all?" James hissed.

"Sorry! But you were gone for ages!"

"So what! You could've at least saved something!"

"You had loads before." Al pointed out in a whisper.

"I did not!"

"Did too!"

"Not!"

"Did!"

"_Boys!_"


	9. Chapter 9

**Short. But a lot easier to write than the previous one (though I must say, the last one is probably my favourite). Some James/Harry interaction for you there. Again, I know it's short, but it was difficult to find anything to add in.**  
**Anyway, I hope you liked it, and please review!**

**M. Sunshine**

* * *

Nine is _definitely_ older than eight, James thought as he watched his younger brother laugh hysterically at something Lily was doing. It had only been two days since his birthday, and even though he was only nine, his siblings' antics really _did_ make him feel like the big brother. He was sitting in the den, trying to ignore the longing to join in on his brother and sister's playing. No, he told himself firmly. I'm nine, _far_ too old to be playing with an eight-year-old, and most _certainly_ too old to play with a six-year-old! And not only that, but one of them was a _girl_!

Albus and Lily were messing about with the model of the Hogwarts express that had once been James'. It still was really, but he pretended he didn't like it anymore. Not that either of his parents were fooled. Harry had walked in, and grinned a bit at the younger two.

"Aren't you going to play, too, James?" he asked, glancing at his eldest son. The boy shook his head. "Well, no offense, but you look bored."

"I'm not bored."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." He snapped. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Listen, I have a present for you."

"Yeah?" Amazing what a comment will do, his father thought.

"Yes. I was meaning to give it to you on your birthday, but never got around to it. Besides, you need to be alone." James frowned.

"What is it?" Again, Harry rolled his eyes.

"You'll see. Come on." He left the den, and James was quick to follow. They headed into Harry and Ginny's bedroom. James stood awkwardly in the doorway, not really used to being in his parents' room.

"Come inside." Harry directed. "And close the door, please." James did as instructed, and stepped a bit closer to his father, who was rummaging about in the wardrobe.

"I knew I should've got it out earlier…" he muttered. James stifled a chuckle. His dad looked funny, almost standing _in_ the piece of furniture containing clothes and other bits and pieces.

"Haven't needed it for a while… Ah!" He reached far inside and pulled out a box. Closing the wardrobe door with his foot, he then placed the box on the bed. James reached for it, but his hand was quickly swatted away.

"Hang on a second, mate." Harry said. "Listen, will you?" James pulled his eyes from the very-interesting-box and met his father's eyes. "Now..." He sat down on the bed. "This is something that belonged to my father, and his father before him, and so on for a very long time." James nodded. "This means, I don't want you playing with it. It mustn't get damaged or lost, understand?" James nodded again. He didn't even know what was _in_ the box, but he didn't want his dad to think he couldn't handle having it. "Good." He opened the lid of the box and removed the paper. Underneath was, as far as James could see, a cloak. A cloak in a strange, silvery kind of material, neatly folded, it's smooth, shiny surface glinting in the scant light. The boy was confused. He didn't understand why this cloak was anything special.

"It's my cloak of invisibility, James." Harry said softly. His kids knew about it: his adventures had become rather frequent bedtime stories, and the cloak was part of the majority of them. As the son of Harry Potter understood, his eyes widened.

"Like, _the_ invisibility cloak?" he whispered. Harry nodded and smiled a bit.

"But you do understand the conditions on which I'm giving you this?" James nodded, more vigorously this time. "No playing around with it. You can use it, of course, but you have to be careful." Another fierce nod. Honestly, Harry wasn't even sure if it was _possible_ to rip or tear the cloak, and didn't truly believe his son would be able to damage it. On the other hand, he didn't want him getting reckless. And even if it couldn't be ruined it _could_ be lost. "And don't you dare try to hide from me under it." This made James grin and Harry ruffled his hair. "Go on, get it out." With careful hands, James reached into the box and pulled out the cloak, which was light and soft to touch. In comparison to the small boy, the cloak was pretty big, and the vision made his father laugh.

"Oh dear. Well go on, put it on." As James was doing so Harry stopped him. "Sorry, but the other way around." He said, trying not to smile. James rolled his eyes (a trait he'd picked up from his dad and Uncle Ron) and turned the cloak around before putting it on. His body disappeared, and left only his head floating in mid-air. Harry sighed.

"Ah, good times." He murmured nostalgically. James laughed mirthfully.

"This is awesome!" he exclaimed and swivelled around. "Thanks dad!"

"Any time, kiddo." He replied, patting his son's invisible back. James was just about to run out when Harry stopped him again. "Hang on, I just remembered something."

"Hm?"

"You have to share it with Lily and Albus." The excited face immediately fell. "Oh don't be like that, Jamie, I can hardly-"

"James."

"- give it to you alone." Harry finished, ignoring the interruption. "You can have it for now, but be sure you let Al and Lils use it too, when they're older, yeah?" The boy huffed and squirmed under his father's eyes, but eventually nodded. "Good boy." For good measure, James rolled his eyes again and charged out of the room, only half his body visible. He passed his mother, without stopping. Ginny looked in wonder at him, and then found her husband coming out of their room.

"So you gave it to him then." She stated. Harry nodded.

"Yes. He should have it. I don't need it right now. Though I feel I do reserve the right to take it back if I need to."

"_That's_ hardly very nice." Ginny remarked with a smirk in her fair face.

"I know, and I do feel bad." He replied seriously, even though her voice had been teasing. "It's just… I might need it for work." She reached up and kissed him gently.

"Just tell him he's helping you catch the bad guys by letting you use it. He'll be all for it." Harry laughed and put his arms around her waist, meeting her lips for another kiss.

"That's gross." They broke apart to see their six-year-old daughter standing a few metres away, her little nose wrinkled.

"Really?" Harry said, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes." She answered.

"Well, you'd better run before I come over there and tickle you until you can never laugh again." Her eyed widened and she turned and was gone.

"Come on." Ginny said. "We'd better get lunch done. And it might take some time to find James." Harry groaned.

"Well this _is_ brilliant."

"Yeah, good plan." She commented. He pushed his wife good-naturedly and went to search for his eldest. A rather difficult task, given the circumstances…


	10. Chapter 10

**Hiya! Anyone still with me? c:**  
**This was easy-peasy to write. Got it together in only a few hours this evening, so do tell me if there are any mistakes. In my defense, it's late here.**  
**Please review, it puts a smile on my face!**

**M. Sunshine**

* * *

He had thought the day would never come. The first signs of summer had of course set him off, and it was an absolute _nightmare_ having to wait for so long. In all honestly, James didn't understand why they (his parents) so stubbornly waited. They could go more than once, right? But no, his mother had explained, because it was a "special occasion, which should all be done on one day alone". James snorted as he pulled on a t-shirt. Nevertheless, it was finally time! The day that he would be buying his Hogwarts things had been coming closer and closer, and James had woken up with a wide smile on his face. His very own _wand_. That was probably the most exciting part of the entire ordeal. Grinning from ear to ear, he hooked his glasses over his ears. He wasn't really used to them yet: it was only three months since he'd got them, and at first, he'd absolutely _loathed_ them.

"But _mum_," James whinged, staring in disgust at the square-ish glasses. "They're hideous!" Ginny sighed for the umpteenth time that day. They'd realised a few weeks prior, that James needed glasses. So, that day, they'd gone and got him some so that he could actually see properly.

"Stop being ridiculous." She said to him while starting to make dinner. "You have to wear them."

"But I look silly!"

"You do not. Your father has glasses."

"But he's always had them."

"Of course he hasn't _always_ had them. He was probably a bit younger than you when he got his. Do you think dad looks silly?" He shrugged.

"Not really."

"_Exactly_. And neither do you, so just put them on."

"They're stupid." Ginny shook her head in exasperation.

"You'll wear them, James Potter, and that is the end of it." She said, and turned back to the cooker. And since, James had worn them, and he didn't really mind anymore. Thinking back, he had a hard time figuring out why he'd been so miffed about them. They weren't _that_ bad. With a snort, he left his room and galloped down the stairs and into the kitchen. Both his parents were in the room, Harry reading the Prophet and Ginny writing a letter.

"Hi!" He exclaimed and all but jumped onto his chair.

"Good morning." His dad answered with a small smile. "Why in the name of Merlin are you up at this hour?" James looked at the clock, and noticed it was only just after seven.

"_Because_," he began, his voice sounding as if he was just about to explain that day became night, "we're going out!"

"Yes, but not yet we're not." Harry remarked, chuckling.

"Hurry up then!"

"James, the shops won't open until nine anyway." Ginny said, drying the ink with a lazy flick of her wand. "Calm down a bit."

"But mum…" She gave him a _look_, and he shut up.

"That's better." She said approvingly. "I'll make you some tea." Fiddling with his glasses, he chattered happily with his mum and dad while drinking tea and eating a piece of toast. At around eight, Albus appeared, rubbing the last sleep from his eyes.

"Morning." He said, and sat down with them

"Morning Al. Toast?"

"Thanks."

"Aren't you excited Al? I'm excited!"

"Are you daft? I'm not in the least bit excited. I don't get to come, and I want a wand too!"

"One more year, mate." Harry said from behind his paper.

"But I want to go _now_!" It was rare indeed for Al to be as whinging an annoying as James. The latter looked almost surprised at his brother's whine.

"I know, love." Ginny said. "I felt the same way. I have six brothers and I had to watch all of them go before it was finally my turn." Al pouted and stirred his tea to avoid responding.

"Dad…" James said timidly.

"Yes?"

"Can we go now?" Harry, who was done with the Prophet, looked at his son.

"Listen, son, I know you're excited, but it's just after eight. As your mum said earlier, the shops open at nine. You'll have to wait." James was about to complain, but his dad shook his head a bit. "No, none of that. You know there's nothing I can do."

"Fine." He huffed and stalked out of the room.

"Hey!" Ginny called. "Were you excused?"

"May I be excused?" he yelled from the stairs. All he heard was muttering, so he shrugged and ran up the stairs.

* * *

"COME _ON_ DAD!" James yelled at the top of his voice into the house. Luna was just inside, having come over to watch Al and Lily, and had brought her twelve-year-old sons, Lorcan and Lysander, along. Harry came down the stairs, tucking his wallet into his robe.

"I'm coming." He stopped and pointed a finger at his son's chest. "And don't yell at me."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Harry playfully smacked him around the back of his head, making the boy chuckle, before he lunged to the car and clambered inside. Ginny was sitting in the passenger seat, and Harry got in the driver's.

"Got everything?"

"Yes, now go!"

"All right, all right." Failing to hide his smile, Harry started the car and started driving to the Leaky Cauldron. Ginny needed to go somewhere in the Muggle parts of London later, so they'd decided to take the car (which James hated, because it couldn't fly like the old Ford his granddad used to have). The drive didn't take long, and as soon as the vehicle stopped, James was out on the pavement.

"Easy." His dad commented, locking the car and leading the way into the pub. Jack, the old barman Tom's great nephew, greeted them with a wave.

"'Mornin' Mr Potter." He said.

"Good morning Jack." Harry smiled back. "Just passing."

"Thought so. Hogwarts stuff?"

"Yes, afraid so." The younger man chuckled. They walked back into the old storage room, with the famous brick wall. Bringing out his wand, Harry tapped the right bricks in a specific order, and the wall began to move, forming an entrance straight into Diagon Alley. James almost squealed with delight (not really, though. Eleven-year-olds do not squeal) as he rushed ahead. His parents followed at a distance, giving him the room to charge from window to window. It was ridiculous, really. He'd been there before, only _this_ time, it was to buy the things he needed for school.

It took a few hours, but eventually they'd got James new school robes, a cauldron, loads of quills, parchment and ink, a satchel, all his school books and an owl.

"He's so… pretty." The word seemed unfamiliar in his mouth, but he couldn't think of a better word. The owl was rather big, and a dark grey, each feather it's own specific colour. He had a perfectly hooked beak and sharp yellow eyes.

"He is indeed." Ginny said, poking a finger though the bars to the cage to touch the bird.

"Are we all set then?" Harry said, as they'd just eaten lunch.

"I think so." Ginny said. James was almost about to nod, before shooting up.

"HEY! NO, WAIT! MY WAND!" Harry laughed out loud and Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Did you hear that?" Harry said to his wife.

"No, what?"

"MY WAND!" James bellowed again, earning a few stares from passing witches and wizards. Harry rolled his eyes.

"I didn't forget, kiddo. Just wanted to see if you were paying attention." James huffed.

"Not funny."

"Whatever." Harry grinned, and shrunk the rest of the packages and put them in his pocket. "Come on then. Let's get to Ollivander's." They strolled along the busy high street and arrived outside the stuffy wand shop.

"Go on." Ginny urged, nudging the boy. Wide-eyed, James pushed the door open, and a small bell jingled at their entering. Mr Ollivander, who was now so old he'd had to get himself an assistant, a young man by the name of Richard Murray, appeared from behind a few shelves, just as a ladder whooshed into view, carrying said assistant.

"Mr and Mrs Potter! What an honour." The old man greeted, shaking their hands enthusiastically. "And you've brought young James, I see." He smiled at the boy. "Time for your wand, I take it?" James nodded vigorously. "Well, let's see what we can do about this then."

"Shall I help you, sir?" Richard asked hesitantly.

"No, I think I'd like to do this myself." He replied.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure, boy." He brushed him off.

"Right…" Richard disappeared among the piles of wands again.

"Now let's see…" The Potter family wandered over to the desk, and waited as the wand maker scrutinized the various boxes. "This one, possibly…" He selected a box and opened it, displaying a short wand. "11 inches, Hazel, core of Unicorn hair. Similar to your mother's first wand; 10 inches, Hazel, with a core of Dragon Heart-string, correct?" Ginny beamed as she nodded. Glancing at his dad for confirmation, James carefully grabbed the wand. Picking it up, he nervously flicked it, and the action reminded him of his rather unfortunate incident with his mother's wand when he was four. A painting on the opposite wall exploded, and the boy was quick to drop the wand back into the velvet.

"Ah, well…" Not bothering to put the lid back on the box, Ollivander placed it on the counter and went in search for another. "This might actually be it." He said with a small frown. "12 inches, Holly, with a core of Dragon Heart-string." He looked at Harry with thoughtful eyes. "It carries similarities to your father's." Harry hoped dearly the similarities weren't many. He loved his wand dearly, but the fact that it had been connected to the wand of the most evil wizard in history made him a bit uncomfortable and unwilling for James to have an encounter with some other dark wizard. James held it in his right hand. It felt warm, and sort of pleasant to touch. _Come on_… he urged, and flourished it. A wind brushed his cheeks and ruffled his hair, and it felt as though the slim piece of wood melted into his hand, like it became a part of his hand, that would be just as vital as any internal organ.

"I believe we have found your match." Ollivander stated, seeming pleased with himself.

"Oh Merlin." Harry sighed, and patted James on the shoulder. "That was quick, son."

"It's awesome." The boy replied, and studied the wand closely, taking in its every detail.

"I should hope so." The wand maker chuckled. Harry rolled his eyes and handed the old man thirteen galleons.

"Thank you, sir." He said, and shook his hand again.

"Oh it was my pleasure, my dear boy. Can I expect you again soon?"

"Next year it's Al's turn. But I'll make sure to visit before then."

"Make sure you do. Good day, Mr Potter, Mrs Potter. James." He smiled as the family walked into the sunshine, and found himself longing for the day he would be able to sell the second son of Harry Potter his very first wand.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hi there!**  
**There we are. I've been sitting with this for the past couple of hours, actually working! I'm so pleased with myself. This is one of my favourite chapters, just because I adore Hogwarts and love to write about it. Also, this chapter is dedicated to _Bottled Sunshine_, who absolutely made my day with some lovely reviews, and inspired me to finish this in a mere few hours. Thanks!**

**M. Sunshine**

* * *

The massive, wooden doors were opened and James followed the other first years in, completely mesmerised by the sight of the huge room. All eyes were turned to the youngsters nervously following the Deputy in for the first time. James had heard his parents and cousins talk about Hogwarts and all its different rooms and places, but it really was something magical to behold. Thousands of candles were floating in the air above the students' heads and the sky was just as dark as outside, studded with twinkling stars, not a cloud in view. As they arrived right in front of the professors' table, a stool was set out, with an old hat upon it, and the Deputy unrolled a long roll of parchment, full of inked names.

"Abbott, Philip." A lanky boy with reddish brown hair made his way to the front, his face a deep crimson as he sat down on the stool. James recognised the name: Neville Longbottom's wife, Hannah, was once an Abbott, and Philip was apparently the son of her cousin.

The Hat was placed on his head, and after a few moments of thought it exclaimed:

"_Hufflepuff!"_ _Big surprise there_, thought James with amusement. The boy, looking relieved, trotted over to the table, where his new housemates cheered him on. A large number of the anxious children were sorted, and James was growing more and more impatient. _Come on…_

And finally, after "Plimmswood, Sophie" was sorted into Ravenclaw, it was time.

"Potter, James." Instantly, voices were hushed, and people craned their necks to get a good look. James scowled a bit, but pushed his way to the front and then plopped himself down on the stool, trying to ignore the hundreds of eyes staring intently at him. _Bloody hell_, he thought irritably. The hat was placed on his, and he felt strange, as if someone was gingerly poking his head.

_"Another Potter…"_ the hat mused_. "Well, it's been a while since one of you sat beneath me. Interesting, very interesting. And complicated, though one might not think so." Oh get to the point_, James thought and tried not to roll his eyes. "_All Gryffindors, both the Potters and the Weasleys… But maybe you would do well somewhere else… I see a curious edge, a fascination with learning…_" James stiffened. _Not Ravenclaw! Auntie Hermione would die with pride, but I can't… Gryffindor, I have to be in Gryffindor._

"_Well I can see you've made your mind up… So I think I've made up mine, too. I think you'll stay in…_

"Gryffindor!" James sighed contently, and hurried over to the mass of red and gold, grinning at Roxanne, who was sitting close to him. She was in her fourth year, and chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"Nice James!" she commented mirthfully.

"Thanks!" Upon waving to Victoire, who was in her sixth year, he accidentally stuck his elbow in another first year's ribs.

"Ouch!"

"Oh, darn, sorry." he said, turning to face the dark haired boy. "I'm sort of clumsy at times."

"I noticed." They grinned at each other and the boy held out his hand.

"Michael Hurst."

"James Potter." he replied and shook his hand.

"Potter? As in Harry Po-"

"Potter, yeah, and don't give me the details of his amazing life, thank you very much. I've heard it enough times as it is."

"I can imagine." Michael laughed. "D'you reckon the sorting's done soon?"

"It better be. I'm starving."

* * *

When James awoke after his first night in his new dorm, it was only a matter of seconds before he broke into a wide grin. Normally, he'd take a while to actually wake up, but the scene in front of him was just far too thrilling: red and gold curtains around the five beds, parchment rolled up into scrolls on the bureaus, and the two owls snoozing on the window sill. Flinging his duvet off, he jumped out of bed, shivering slightly as his feet hit the cold stone floor. Even though it was only September, the floors were cold, and were the same pretty much all year round.

Ignoring the unpleasant feeling, he trotted over to Michael's bed. They'd been sitting in the Common room talking for hours before a Prefect ushered them to bed (though they just continued the conversation up in their dorm), and basically considered each other best mates. James snickered mischievously as he gazed down at the sleeping boy. Time to wake up, he thought with slight amusement as he yanked the covers off the boy, who immediately sat up with a small gasp.

"Merlin's _pants_!" he hissed, staring hit narrowed eyes at his new friend. "What was _that_ for?" James chuckled and sat down on the bed, uninvited.

"I just thought you looked uncomfortable." he said innocently.

"Well, ha-ha." Michael said, sitting and pulling the covers up again, looking rather disgruntled.

"Stop pretending to be so insulted by it." James said, completely impervious to his friend's displeased glares. Michael huffed, before breaking into a grin to match James'.

"This is truly awesome, isn't it?"

"Well, duh!" They laughed and James got up again. "Come on, let's get dressed. I think I may die if I don't get to eat something soon." Michael rolled his eyes as he stood.

"And you never exaggerate."

"Not in a million years." was the muffled reply as James started digging about in his trunk for a pair of socks. Finding a decent pair, he reappeared and at this point spotted the tie and robe hanging on the nearby chair. The colours made him just about burst with pride, and he rushed forward to examine them closer. Of course, he'd already seen his mum and dad's old ties and uniforms, but having one of his own made him feel sort of… grown up.

As the other boys started waking up, James and Michael were dressed and ready to go. To avoid the awkward moment of being in the same small room as three kids you didn't know, they hurried out and down the stairs.

"What do you suppose classes will be like?" Michael asked as they headed out into the corridor and started towards the Great Hall.

"No idea, really." he replied truthfully. "I mean, I've heard a bit from my cousins and parents, but nothing I would really rely on." he added with a grimace. Michael laughed, and they walked into the Great Hall. The giant room was already full of chattering students, and unlike at the welcoming feast, the food was already on the table, free for the students to help themselves whenever they pleased. At least until the first classes started. Both of them feeling giddy, they rushed to a free spot at the Gryffindor table and sat down next to each other.

"Perfect." James determined as he grabbed a scone and the pot of jam. Michael poured himself tea, but was stopped before he could do the same for James. "No, sorry, don't drink tea." He earned a strange look before the tea pot was set back down, and the other boy added some sugar and milk to his own hot drink. James grimaced. "Never really learned to like it."

"Right." He thinks I'm mental… Huffing a bit, he took a big bite from the scone, relishing in its perfect taste and temperature. They kept eating and talking for a while before they were interrupted by their Head of House: Neville Longbottom.

"Hello boys." he greeted, smiling widely at James.

"Hey, Nev- Professor Longbottom." James replied, grimacing at his slip. The professor just chuckled.

"I have your timetables." He informed, and produced two sheets of parchments, handing one to each boy. "I hope you enjoy your classes. And don't be late." he added with a wink before continuing down the table. Neville taught the Defence classes, and was liked throughout the school. James knew him well, as he was still a good friend of his parents, and often came to visit with his wife and six-year-old daughter.

"Let's see…" They both looked down at the schedule, and were pleased to see they would be starting their Hogwarts career with Charms.

"That should be fun." Michael observed. "Who's teaching?"

"Professor Lisa Pryer." James replied, looking at his schedule. "Never heard of her." Michael sniggered.

"Hopefully she's good."

"Yeah, well, she's still a teacher, mate."

"True." They grinned and finished off their breakfast before heading back to fetch their books.

* * *

It wasn't as if he'd planned on getting detention on his first day of school. These things happened. And it happened to happen in the morning. In his first class ever, to be more precise. Frankly, James thought the whole thing was rather unfair.

It all started as they were gathering their books, stuffing them in their respective satchels. They had about twenty minutes until Charms started, which was plenty, as the Charms classroom had been moved from the third floor to the sixth after the Battle of Hogwarts. In short, they didn't have far to go, and enough time. So obviously they thought they'd get there before the class started. Once all books were where they were supposed to, they got up and started towards the classroom. They chatted easily about this and that, but as they were just about to descend the stairs, Michael stopped dead and groaned.

"What?"

"I forgot my quill."

"Oh, good job." James remarked sarcastically, but turned back the way they'd come. "Come on, we'll hurry and get it." They walked at a brisk pace back to the tower, gave the password ("Flobberworm!") and rushed up to the dorm. There, Michael rummaged about in his drawer until he pulled out an elegant quill.

"There!" he sighed, relieved, stuffing into his back. "Okay, come on." Almost running, they headed back for the staircase, though taking a slightly different route this time. James had never been to that part of the castle, and took some time to look at the paintings that hung on the walls. They were mostly rather dull, grim-looking witches and wizards, but one particular tapestry caught his eye. A dark-haired wizard seemed to be trying to teach a few trolls ballet. He laughed at the image, but stopped dead in front of it when he realised what it was.

"Barnabas the Barmy." Michael said, sounding like he was smiling. "_Such_ an idiot." But James wasn't still because he thought it was funny to look at. A few years back, his dad had told the story about Dumbledore's army. Even though he'd made it seem a lot less cool than James was certain it would have been, Harry hadn't left out the part about the Room of Requirement. Nor its location. _Opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, on the seventh floor… _He spun around and stared at the empty stone wall.

"What're you doing?" Michael asked, looking curiously at his friend's intrigued expression. James walked forward and put a hand on the wall. He couldn't remember how to get in… He furiously racked his brain for the detail, but the memory was slightly hazy, as he'd been rather young at the time. "James?"

"Shut it, trying to remember something." Michael huffed, his feathers obviously haven been ruffled.

"Well, remember it later, we need to get going. We only have…" He glanced at his watch, "five minutes. Hurry up."

"Yeah, yeah…" James replied absentmindedly, his previous enthusiasm for the class forgotten as he stood before this seemingly regular wall. He squeezed his eyes shut and banged his fist lightly against the wall. _Think, James, think… It was something like thinking of what you wanted… _He tried to clear his mind and come up with what he wanted the room to be. The DA headquarters, he decided after only a split second. That made up, he thought as hard as he could of that, and that only, and then opened his eyes. Nothing.

"Erm… Are you okay?"

"Merlin's pants, give me some time!"

"Listen, James, can't we do this later?" Michael was staring to sound sort of nervous. "It's, like, two minutes left, but if he run…"

"If I tell you what this is, will you stop bugging me?" he said, turning to face the bewildered boy.

"That depends. I dunno if it's worth it yet, do I?"

"Oh, it is." he assured. "Do you know about Dumbledore's Army?"

"Well, yeah, who doesn't?"

"How much do you know then?" Michael bit his lip.

"Your dad and his friends founded it in, like, 1995, to teach kids Defence, 'cause the teacher was rubbish."

"And…"

"And that's about it." he said, grimacing.

"Well, they used to meet in the Room of Requirement."

"They did? That's not in any of the stories…"

"No, they kept it a bit hushed, but as you can imagine, I got some inside info." He laughed.

"Right. And this room…?"

"Well it turns into whatever you want it to be."

"Awesome…" he breathed.

"Yeah." James nodded. "And this is where it is." he added, jerking his head back towards the wall.

"You sure? Er, I mean, that's just a clear wall."

"It only appears when a person really needs it, and you need to be specific with asking for it to change. I just can't remember exactly how to make it reveal itself."

"We have to find out!"

"Exactly! My dad told me, but it was years ago, and I'm having a hard time remembering."

"_Think_ then!"

"That's what I was trying to do before you went jumping all over me!" he exclaimed, waving his arms frantically. Just then, an older student walked past, giving them strange looks before hurrying along. "You see," James continued once he was sure the girl was well enough away, "most people don't know it exists. I shouldn't tell anyone, really, but I could hardly keep it secret from you." The other boy beamed at this sign of friendship and trust. Again, he looked at his watch and his face fell.

"We're five minutes late."

"Who cares! We have to figure this out!"

"Yeah, but… Can't we do it at lunch or something? I mean, we won't get anywhere just because we're standing here."

"Good point." James answered after a moment of thought. "Well, come on. We're late anyway, no need to hurry." They walked along at a leisurely pace, strolling down the stairs and then arriving in front of the classroom door.

"Okay," James said, "This is more embarrassing than I thought." So, gathering all his Gryffindor bravery, he lifted his fist and knocked on the door. It was instantly flung open, probably from a careless flick of a wand. Inside sat the entire class, all of them turned toward the door. Professor Pryer was standing in front of the desk, her wand in her hand.

"Ah. If it isn't Mr Potter and Mr Hurst." She said. She didn't sound angry or irritated, just mildly interested. "Do come in." They carefully stepped inside, and the door was immediately shut behind them. "Before you take your seats, would you mind terribly telling us all why you are eleven minutes late?" _This is getting to me_, James thought irritable as he felt his ears warm.

"Erm…"

"Pardon?"

"Sorry." James offered.

"Yes, yes, I'm sure you're very sorry for your tardiness. I would just like to know the reason for it." They both fidgeted. "Well?"

"I forgot my quill."

"Surely that can't have taken you very long to fix."

"No… We got… caught up on the way. We, erm, found something interesting."

"Is that so. And what might that be?" All the staring was making James uncomfortable. They shared that class with the Slytherins, and one of the boys in a green tie was smirking unpleasantly. James clenched his hands into fists.

"I can't really say, professor." She scrutinised them for a moment longer, but then her expression softened.

"Very well then. I'm sure it won't happen again."

"No, ma'am."

"Good. Take your seats please." The placed she indicated to were at the front, and they headed over. As James walked past, the Slytherin boy whispered,

"Nice glasses." in a jeering sort of way. James, having inherited his parents' tempers, spun around.

"At least I'm not a slimy snake who can't say what he wants loud enough for everyone to hear." Combined with being late for his first class, this didn't really impress Professor Pryer, and her being displeased landed him in detention. So really, it was all very unfair.


	12. Chapter 12

**Hi! Anyone still out there?**  
**I've been lousy with updates, on all my fics. I'm just in a kind of dark and depressing phase of my life at the moment. Exams, heaps and heaps of schoolwork, worrying about if I'll get into the school I want to attend... Anyway, shan't bore you with all of that. I hope you liked this, and that you'll bear with me while I write the following years of James' growing up! **  
**Please review!**

**M. Sunshine**

* * *

James was absentmindedly chucking things into his trunk, obviously not caring at all whether they ended up in any kind of order. He didn't mind. He'd find what he needed eventually. Of course, his mum had pointed out that it would all be much quicker later if he had everything neatly packed. But James, ever the logical boy, retorted that it was quicker to just throw them straight in, thus saving time now instead of later. It made perfect sense.

He grabbed another pair of socks, flinging them into the heap of clothes and stuff gathering in his trunk. He'd never actually unpacked when he got home after his first year; reasoning that he'd need it all again in just a couple of months, and so there was a lot of rubbish in the bottom.

While scanning his rooms for objects to bring, he heard his mother call him. Annoyed, he stood still in the middle of the room. He hadn't finished packing (which he should have done the previous day), and didn't really fancy going downstairs anyway. Perhaps if he just ignored her, she'd give up… She called again, and James huffed, pulling his Potions book out form under his bed and dumping it in the trunk.

"James?" He spun around, and saw his father standing in the doorway. "Your mum's calling, didn't you hear?"

"No," James lied, but not very smoothly. Harry raised an eyebrow, and jerked his head towards the stairs.

"Come on." Sighing dramatically, James kicked the lid to the trunk shut and trotted after his dad through the corridor and down the carpeted staircase. Ginny was sitting on the couch in the living room, going through a list of what looked like books. She looked up when they entered.

"There you are," she said, putting the piece of parchment down on the sofa beside her. "Are you done packing yet?"

"Er…"

"James, for heaven's sake," she muttered. "Didn't I tell you to do it yesterday?"

"Well… Yeah. I s'pose."

"You suppose?" Ginny asked as Harry chuckled, and left the room, rummaging about in the wardrobe.

"Listen, I forgot."

"I'm sure you did."

"Come on, mum…" She sighed.

"Just get it done; we're leaving in an hour."

"Yeah, yeah." He turned to leave, but she hurriedly called him back.

"Hang on, you, I'm not done."

"Okay?"

"Your dad's got something for you and your brother." James tried to hide his excitement. Usually when his dad gave him things spontaneously it was something completely awesome. Last time it had been the Cloak of Invisibility, after all. But the fact that he would have to share it with Al this time made him a bit grumpy.

"I have to share it with Al?" His mum looked disapprovingly at him.

"You don't even know what it is yet. And yes, you do. Now that Al's coming to Hogwarts too he's old enough to handle it. Oh, and lend him the cloak too."

"_What?"_

"Shush," she admonished. "You know it's not yours alone. Merlin knows you've got into enough trouble with it already," she added.

"But dad gave it to me!"

"I think you'll find," Harry said, entering the room, "that I said you would have to share it with Al _and_ Lily." He leaned against the wall, an old piece of parchment clutched between his folded arms. James scowled at the injustice of it all, and plunked down on the armchair. Harry chuckled and sat down on the couch. James tried to hide his excitement: he didn't want his dad to think he was still some kid who got all worked up over presents.

"So… What is it?" he asked after a while, simply not able to contain himself any longer. Harry rolled his eyes, fingering the parchment. He was actually surprised his son hadn't yet figured it out: James was a bright boy, and the parchment was in clear view. He and his siblings had heard the stories of the map many times, and all begged to be allowed to use it.

"What's what?" _Does he _have_ to be that annoying?_ James wondered irritably. Just then, Al trotted into the room, looking all excited. James guessed it might have something to do with the fact that he was starting his first year at Hogwarts.

"What's going on?" he asked brightly, and for some reason, his happiness annoyed James. Deep down, he knew he was being ridiculous, but at the age of twelve, he didn't exactly pay it any mind.

"Dad's giving me something." Harry shot him a disapproving look.

"No, I have something for the _both_ of you."

"And for the record," Ginny said, looking at her husband, "I'm not sure I agree to this."

"What is it?" Albus piped up here, looking excitedly from his mother to his father. "What is it, eh?"

"Just shut up and they might tell us."

"_James_," Ginny admonished him. The boy snorted but quieted, and turned his eyes to his father again, who was watching his two sons with amused interest.

"Daaaad," he whinged, ignoring Al's headshake.

"All right, all right." He rolled his eyes a bit and flicked out the parchment, dangling it in front of them. "There." James frowned at his dad, but Albus seemed to get it.

"No way!" he cried, snatching the parchment out of his father's hands. "Are you serious?"

"What?" James said, feeling incredibly annoyed that Albus knew what the strange piece of parchment was. "What is it?"

"Are you completely brain addled?"

"Al, watch it," Harry warned his younger son.

"But he doesn't get it!" Al cheered. "He's older than me, and I got it first!"

"Don't gloat," Ginny told him. "Then you're just as bad as Jamie."

"Hey!"

"Well, it's true," Al said.

"It is _not_!"

"Oi! You two, be quiet." The two boys turned to their father who was shaking his head. "Really, boys, calm down." James huffed, but Albus tried to look a bit repentant. Harry took the parchment back and held it out in front of him. "This is the Marauders' Map." _Oh. Well that was rather obvious._ This time, James grabbed for the treasured item, but it was snatched away from him in the last second. "James," Harry warned, getting more and more irritated by the second. "Behave yourself." James sighed and looked away. _No need to treat me like a five-year-old… _

"If you're going to me this ridiculous over the map, you can't have it. Either of you," Ginny said at that point, still looking as though she highly disapproved of it all.

"Darling," Harry said, turning to his wife. "Please…" She sighed and stood.

"I'll go fetch Lily." Her husband nodded and she left the room to the males of the family.

"Right. I'm going to give you this." The boy nodded eagerly. "But you have to promise me a few things." Al nodded again, but James stared suspiciously at his dad. Usually when he had to promise things like this it meant he'd have to promise not to have fun. Well, not literally, but that's what it seemed like.

"First of all, you have to share it, okay?" Nod. "You do understand what sharing means, yes?"

"Dad…"

"Just checking," Harry reassured the offended boy. "Second of all, you have to let Lily borrow it when she comes to Hogwarts."

"Oh, come _on_!"

"James, that's enough. It's still another two years, and she's your sister. If you can't agree to all of this, then you can forget having it all. And I'll take the cloak too. Understood?" James huffed. "What's that?"

"Yes," he grumbled.

"Good. Also, don't get into too much trouble with it." Even as he said it, Harry knew this was a lost cause. It was his own fault for giving it to them, but he couldn't _not_ let them have it. They'd heard all about it, and probably expected they'd be given it. So that was all there was to it.

"Yeah," James said, looking amused, and Harry was sure he was thinking the same thing.

"Very well." With a slow movement he extended the parchment, and within half a second James had it in his hand and bolted out of the room. Albus was close behind.

"Stop! It's mine too!"

"You'll have to catch me!"

"JAMES!"


	13. Chapter 13

**Finally! It's been a while, I know, I know. But now I am home from my holiday and free from school for another four and a half weeks! So I am hoping I'll have time to start updating regularly again.**  
**This chapter is a bit longer than a last, as an apology. In any case, it practically wrote itself c:**

**I hope you enjoy it, and please review. Reviews are like chocolate cookies, and I _like_ chocolate cookies!**

**M. Sunshine **

* * *

James sat idly in the Common room, his feet propped up on a table in front of him. It was early morning, and he and Michael had recently come back from having breakfast. They were both in their third year, and it was the day of their first ever trip to Hogsmeade. Well, strictly speaking they had both been there before. But this was the first school trip there, and it was all very different, let's be honest. It had been complete hell, James thought, to get his parents to sign the stupid permission slip.

"But muuuuum," he had cried, acting more like he was seven than thirteen.

"Oh James, for Merlin's sake," Ginny exclaimed, slamming the knife she was using to cut up some potatoes onto the chopping board, effectively making her oldest son jump. "I never said you couldn't go, but we need to talk about this, and I want to do it when your dad's home."

"But why isn't he free from work?" he objected, even though he knew full well that it was beside the point.

"Because he is the Head of the Auror office, James," Ginny said in exasperation. "His job isn't like mine; he can't just stop working and expect crimes to stop with him." James huffed and placed his cheek forcefully in his propped up hand, scratching at the wooden table top.

"Everyone will be going," he said in a low voice after a while.

"I hardly think that's true. And again, I never said you couldn't go." _Might as well have_, he thought sourly. In the end, though, they had signed the form, albeit under the threat that he would never be going ever again if they heard of him misbehaving. He'd agreed and promised he'd be good a thousand times over, but in retrospect he knew it was quite hopeless. He'd be bound to get into trouble sooner or later in Hogsmeade. He just hoped his parents hadn't been that serious about it.

"Oi, Michael!" he called after a while, getting bored in the warm room all by himself. They were supposed to meet in the Entrance Hall in just under ten minutes, so the rest of the students going to the village had already gone downstairs. For once, though, it was Michael that was being slow, not James.

"Coming, coming!" His best friend suddenly appeared on the stairs and jumped off the last few steps. "You ready to go?"

"Yus. Hope we're not late now." Michael snorted as they jogged out of the room and into the corridor. It was mid-October, and it had started getting cold weeks ago. Now it was positively chilling in the mornings and afternoons, even inside.

"You never have any problems with being late for class," he pointed out as they started down the first staircase, their hands gliding along the rails as they descended. James let go and held his hands, palms up in front of him, acting like a scale.

"Class, Hogsmeade, class, Hogsmeade…" he chanted weighing the two options carefully before dropping his hands and rolling his eyes. "Be serious, mate." Michael chuckled as they hurried along another corridor towards the final staircase, past a long row of suits of armour. James remembered during his first year; he'd been almost awed by the things, especially after his parents had told him about how they had helped fight in the Battle of Hogwarts. James and his siblings knew of the war, but barely any details. He had pushed persistently, but they kept saying he would learn in school. Which he did, of course, but hardly anything particularly interesting. The books made the whole thing seem very dull and dreary, and James knew for a fact that that wasn't the case. Besides which, he quite thoroughly disliked the way the texts made the people seem like the pieces in a game of chess. The lists of people who had died. One reason for his poor History mark was that he often refused to read the texts because of them. A good thing about it was that his parents didn't bother him about that particular act of defiance. On the contrary, they thought his anger about the whole thing was very noble and admirable. James smirked at the memory of their expressions when he'd explained it all to them.

They hurried down the stairs and reached the rest of the third years, breathlessly handing their permission forms to Professor Longbottom.

"Running a bit late, lads?" the man said, raising an eyebrow at the boys. James grimaced, as the professor's eyes were full of mirth and his voicing was nothing but a show put on for everyone else. Neville was his godfather, and even though this never came between him and his job, he would occasionally joke about James' inability to keep track of the time. Amongst other things… "All right then, has everyone handed in their forms?" There were several cries of "Yes!" and Neville smiled. "Now remember: the visits to the village are a privilege, and any incidents that should occur during these visits will result in the immediate withdrawal of this privilege. Is that understood?" A number of people replying with a "Yes, sir," or "Yes, professor" were heard. He smiled again. "Very well then. There are professors patrolling the village during your entire visit, so should you need anything you can grab one of them. Off you go." The students broke into excited chatter as they turned and walked outside, pulling on hats and gloves as they did so.

"What should we do?" James was asked as they started down the path among the hoard of students. He gave a shrug.

"Dunno. There's loads to do, I'm sure we'll find something fun to do." Michael grinned widely as he skipped a puddle of muddy water.

"You know…" James looked up at his friend's thoughtful expression.

"What?" he asked with a frown on his face, recognising this as Michael's I-think-I-have-an-idea tone of voice.

"Well… You have your dad's cloak, right?" James nodded. He had it tucked under his school robe. He wasn't sure why he'd brought it really, but it had felt weird to leave it behind. Besides, being invisible meant you could get into all sorts of fun. Preferably fun that didn't involve getting a detention and having a behavioural report sent home, of course. James wasn't good at that sort of fun, but he didn't want to ruin his future years at Hogwarts by making his parents forbid him from going to Hogsmeade.

"I do," James replied, quite suspiciously. Michael grabbed hold of his friend's jacket and held them to a standstill for a moment, letting all students pass them, leaving the two at the end of the line, creating a distance between them and all the others. "Mike, what's this about?" he asked, though he had a sneaking suspicion.

"Hogsmeade is great fun, yeah, we know that. Come on, James, we've been there like a million times with our folks. Let's do something a bit more adventurous!" James bit his lower lip, a sure sign of his reluctance. "Come on!"

"Seriously, Michael, my dad will kill me if we get caught. And my mum…" He shuddered. "No, in that case dad had better be the one to find out…" he added, more to himself.

"But we have the cloak! We wouldn't _get_ caught!" James thought about it as they walked slowly, the pointy tops of the houses now visible, as well as the dark figures of their classmates reaching the tiny village.

"I dunno, mate…"

"What's the worst that could happen?" James raised an eyebrow.

"The worst? I'll be banned from Hogsmeade, or no, expelled from school, my parents will murder me and then ground me forever." Michael rolled his eyes.

"We wouldn't get expelled, you idiot." _That's a fair enough point_, James considered. _And he's right. Who would see us in the cloak? As long as we go back with the others, no one will have to know…_

"Okay, fine. What is it you want to do?"

* * *

James peeked out from an alley between two stone houses, making sure no one was near enough to see them.

"Good, come on," he said, and Michael threw the cloak over the two of them. _It's bloody lucky it hasn't snowed yet,_ James though, knowing that someone would spot them immediately if tracks just appeared, seemingly without anyone actually walking in the snow.

"Do you know which way?" Michael said in a low voice as they navigated carefully among the people on the high street.

"Yeah, 'course," James replied in an equally hushed voice. The Shrieking Shack was just outside the village, secluded by an empty field and a number of trees. He'd been with his family several times. Well, not in the building, as it was old and could apparently "fall to bits by a gust of wind," as his dad said, but they'd been up to the surrounding fence. His parents hadn't wanted to tell him and his siblings about the story of the place at first, so James had investigated on his own. He'd soon enough found out that his parents' old teacher and one of his grandfather's best friends, Remus Lupin, had spent time there once a month as he transformed into a werewolf. _Why couldn't they just have said that?_ he'd wondered several times. _It's not like we're five anymore…_

"Always wondered what it would look like in there…" Michael's voice broke through James' thoughts, bringing him back to the present. They'd just passed the last houses and were now heading for the path that would lead them to their destination.

"Yeah…" James replied noncommittally.

"Do you think we could take the cloak off now?" he wondered. "I mean, there won't be anyone here.

"There might be. Let's not take that risk." It wasn't often that James was for taking precautions, but this time he really didn't want to get caught. He was, in reality, quite sure his parents had been serious about banning him from going to the village again, and he couldn't imagine being stuck in the castle while all his friends were having fun. Maybe they'd exaggerated a bit, but he'd really rather not find out.

"What's life _without_ a bit of risk?" Michael breathed as they walked past an old witch, walking towards the village.

"This is the exception of that rule," James muttered, and they finally passed into the field, staring at the old house. In broad daylight, it didn't look particularly frightening, but it still seemed as if it was quieter than it should be.

"Seriously, mate, let's shed the cloak." James bit his lip again, and looked around. It wasn't likely that they'd meet someone down here, but it wasn't impossible either. Some kids in their year might come to take a look, especially the muggle born ones that hadn't ever been to Hogsmeade before.

"Okay, fine," he decided after a moment, tugging the silky material off them.

"Brilliant," Michael grinned and took the lead onto the field. James followed, stuffing the cloak away as he jumped over the fence and trotted after his best mate. Normally, he was the one that dragged Michael into things, but this time he was a bit more nervous. He had a bad feeling about the whole thing, but didn't dare say anything to Michael.

"Come on!" he other urged, almost at the house. It looked spookier than James remembered, especially up close, with its mouldy planks and torn, grey curtains fluttering in the light breeze. The stairs up to the door were missing several steps, and James fancied he saw them moving in the wind too. _Bloody hell…_ Michael had arrived at the staircase and was putting a testing foot on the first step.

"Erm, Mike? I dunno if that's a good idea."

"Nah, don't be a bore." The boy stood on the step, bouncing a bit. "See? No problemo." He took a large step up on the next one and kept going until he reached the top, pushing the door gently ajar. "Come on Jamie!"

"It's James," he grumbled, but took the steps as well. Michael vanished into the house, closely followed by James, who scrunched his forehead up in slight apprehension. _We shouldn't be here,_ he thought with irritation. He was fine with roaming the castle at any time of the day, and sneaking out onto the grounds after curfew, but this was different. The Shrieking Shack was outside Hogwarts grounds, and the crumbling construction was nowhere near being safe. He liked the odd adventure, but he wasn't _suicidal_, for Merlin's sake.

"Are you coming, or what?" Michael asked, beginning to climb the stairs to the second floor, looking back at his hesitating friend.

"I don't think so." _Wow, James, smartest thing you've said yet_, he thought to himself with grim sarcasm.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me!"

"I don't have a bloody death wish!" he cried back, gesturing wildly with his arms. "Let's just go back, come on."

"Don't be such a baby!" James stared in sheer anger at the other boy before turning around and walking out, carefully going down the stairs. He heard Michael come running after him, but he didn't turn. "Aw, James, come on!" James stepped onto the ground and stuffed his hands into his pockets, starting to head back. He heard the creaking of steps as Michael followed, but they stopped suddenly. A split second of complete silence was followed by a cry and the cracking of wood. James whipped around and just saw Michael fall through one of the steps, landing in a heap on the ground.

"Michael!" he yelled, running around, crawling under the stairs to his friend. "Oh, bloody hell, are you all right?" Michael groaned, and James felt slightly nauseous at the odd angle of the boy's arm. "I knew we shouldn't have done this, I knew it," he muttered in exasperation, feeling panic creep into his stomach. _What the hell do I _do_?_

"Save it," Michael muttered, his face drawn in pain. "Oh, Merlin's pants…" Tears were leaking through Michael's eyes and James felt almost like crying himself. _Get it together, you're thirteen_, he thought angrily.

"Okay, sorry. Listen, uh, I need to get someone. Quickly. I don't… Can…"

"Stop being such a girl, just go!" was the impatient answer, followed by a groan of pain.

"Right, yes. I'll be right back, okay. Just… Just… Yeah." Not knowing what else to say, and without a reply from Michael, James crawled back out, stood up and ran faster than he ever had before.

* * *

James stood in agitation outside the Hospital wing, clenching and unclenching his hands. He was sweating and didn't know what to do with himself.

He had found a Prefect, who had immediately got a grip of the situation. With calm and rapid directions he had told James to go back to Michael. He would fetch a professor and then go back to the castle to inform the Mediwitch of what had happened. James had nodded, beside himself, and ran back to his friend. Almost as soon as he arrived, a crack announced the arrival of the Defence professor, Professor Cooper. He had gently pushed James aside, and without a word knelt by the boy under the stairs. Feeling his arm carefully, he had asserted that it was broken, and after making sure Michael wasn't otherwise hurt, he had with expert movements lifted the boy into his arms and carried him out from the dark place. When he could stand straight, he'd conjured a stretcher and placed the boy on it, walking back with James in tow. Professor Cooper hadn't said a word to James during the whole episode.

Now, Michael had been in the Infirmary for forty minutes, and James was dying to know how he was. Just then, the door was opened, and Professor Cooper, who had stayed, indicated with his head for James to come in. The boy did so, and ran over to the bed where his best friend was lying. His arm looked a lot better, but his eyes were drooping as if he could fall asleep at any moment.

"How're you feeling, mate?" James asked timidly. Michael turned his head and gave a half smile.

"I've had better days," he replied, his head twitching at some pain or other.

"Why is he still in pain?" James asked the Mediwitch, earning a distinct glare from the Defence teacher at his rather rude inquiry.

"He has several bruises," she answered good naturedly, "and there is no use to treat them. His body is already trying to cope with the magic that restored his arm. Best not overdo it." James merely nodded.

"Sometimes you are so stupid," he sighed at Michael, who grimaced.

"Yeah, I know," he answered. "But it was all fun."

"Yeah, hilarious," James responded with a huff. The doors opened again, and they turned to see Mr and Mrs Hurst hurrying in. After them came the Headmaster, followed by… Ginny and Harry. _Bloody hell._


	14. Chapter 14

**How's that for speed, eh? **

**I've had the basic outlines for every chapter since before I started, so if I really get going I can finish them in but a day. Literally, I started this chapter this afternoon...**

**I have read it through and corrected all typos and such that I've found, but as usual, if you find any, please do tell me and I'll rectify them.**

**Almost the end now, too... Three more chapters, and possibly an epilogue. Out of interest, is anyone interested in one of these for Albus and Lily as well? I've had a few people request it, but I'm not sure yet. **

**I hope you enjoy it!**

**M. Sunshine**

* * *

The milk slowly dripped off the spoon, plinking onto James' black uniform trousers. He noticed nothing of it, though. The spoon was held somewhere in front of his face, and his mouth was half open. He had completely forgotten about his breakfast, and his cereal was getting soggier by the second. His eyes were trained on something at the Ravenclaw table. Or someone rather.

It was Thursday morning, and it had been exactly seven days, eighteen hours and twenty two minutes since he had first noticed her. She was in his Transfiguration and Ancient Runes classes. Transfiguration was nicer in that case, because she sat in front of him, one jump to the left. Her name was Felicity Alder, and James was completely taken by her. It was quite strange, he thought, that he had never noticed her until now, in his fourth year. The way she regularly tucked a few shorter strands of her long, light brown hair behind her ear, or pulled it into a loose plait. Her amber eyes, clear cheekbones and always smiling lips. To James, she was perfection. Of course, he didn't tell anyone this.

"Are you staring at Alder again?" He jumped as Michael's voice pulled him out of his daydream and effectively spilt the milk down the front of his robe. "Seriously, mate, get over it. She'd never go for someone like you." Muttering a quick _tergeo_, James scowled at his friend.

"Oh, because it's been going so well with Charlotte?"

"Come on, you know I'm waiting for the right moment," Michael huffed.

"Which is when? 2050?"

"Hey, give it a rest!"

"You started it, you twit." Michael snorted indignantly.

"At least _I_ can go through a meal without dribbling at the sight of her." James flicked his wand, and with a skill inherited from his father, muttered;

"_Rictusempra_." Michael burst out laughing uncontrollably, writhing in his seat as invisible fingers tickled him.

"S-s-stop it!" he wailed, tears running down his cheeks. He managed to knock over a jug of juice and it splattered across the table. An older student pursed her lips at it and with a flick of her wand made it clear itself up. People had begun staring in bewilderment at them, and of course Professor Cooper chose that moment to walk past.

"Mr Potter!" he barked. James whipped around. "Cancel that spell this instant." James did so, and noticed with horror that Felicity was looking strangely at him. _Great, she chooses _this_ moment to look at me_, he grumbled inwardly. "Five points from Gryffindor. It is prohibited to cast spells like that at a fellow student." With those words of admonishment, he walked briskly away. James risked grimacing at his back before turning back to Michael, whose face had regained its normal colour.

"Prat," James muttered and pushed his bowl away from him, the contents now looking quite revolting. Slurping down the rest of his pumpkin juice and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he stood. "I'm all done. Shall we go?"

"Nah, I'll stay for a bit," Michael replied, biting into yet another piece of toast. "See you in Defence."

"Yeah, sure." James turned and walked hastily out of the Great Hall. He'd always hated walking through the place alone, as it felt as if everyone stared at you that way. Soon he was out in the corridor, heading for the stairs that led to the Gryffindor Common room. He was lost in thought as he walked. He'd been thinking for ages (i.e. the past seven days) that he really should work up the courage and talk to Felicity. She was, according to most of her peers, a very nice and funny person, and James hoped she wouldn't be completely disgusted by him. After all, she was a Ravenclaw, with top marks and a spotless record. James was… well, not that. He sighed and ran a hand through his black hair, giving the Fat Lady the password and entering through the hole when she swung open for him. Walking past the students lingering in the Common room, he headed straight for his dorm to fetch his book bag. Hoisting the heavy thing up on his shoulder, he walked back the same way he'd come. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he almost bumped into his sister.

"James!" she cried and hugged his waist tightly. James groaned silently. He really wished eleven-year-old Lily would be a bit more discreet. "Hi!"

"Hey, Lils," he replied quietly, carefully prying her arms off her. "You having fun?" She nodded enthusiastically.

"Hannah and I are really good friends now!" she told him eagerly, beaming up at him.

"That's great. Listen, I have to go…" She pouted.

"Why? I want to tell you about my classes!"

"I know you do, but later. Right now, I have a class to get to… Don't you?" She shook her head mirthfully.

"Not yet. I start in half an hour."

"Okay, great. Er… Don't be late." In a way, he felt like an arse for saying that. It wasn't as if he paid that much attention to his schedule, so he was being quite the hypocrite. She seemed to notice as she raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah…" He waved half-heartedly and hurried off, leaving her looking slightly forlorn. He made his way through the castle, his legs taking him towards the Defence classroom. Normally, he mightn't have been so eager to be there on time, but after Professor Cooper's rebuke at breakfast, he didn't want to push the man any further. _Best to just get there on time_, he reasoned with some degree of irritation. He'd always liked Defence, and didn't really have any problem with Cooper. He could be a bit short-tempered, James thought personally, but he was a pretty good teacher. However, Defence was no longer his favourite subject. No, seven days ago, that place had been taken by Transfiguration.

He walked down a flight of stairs slowly, looking at his feet as he walked. Eventually, he saw someone else's feet coming in the opposite direction, and looked up to step out of the way. As coincidences go, this was fairly amazing. He met the gaze of Felicity and blanched.

"Oh, hi," she said, smilingly. "I interrupted your thinking, didn't I?" James stared, but realised he should probably answer, lest he look like a complete fool.

"I… You… No. No, not at all. Sorry."

"Oh, it's fine. I find myself deep in thought when I walk, too," she replied, grimacing a bit. "Well, see you around." She waved a bit and then trotted past him up the stairs. James spun around and stared after her, until the last of her soft hear flicked around a corner. Sighing, he switched the heavy bag over to his other shoulder, shook his head and continued walking. _Hopeless, James, you complete dolt._

* * *

When lunch break finally arrived, James made a drastic decision. He was going to the library.

He was quite astonished himself at this thought, but even though he might sometimes act like an idiot, he really wasn't stupid. He had Ancient Runes right after lunch (and he was slightly looking forward to it), and still hadn't finished the essay he had to hand in. So despite hating to do schoolwork, he made his way towards the room, determined to get it finished. He had to scrape together at least an Acceptable, or his mum would go through the roof. She kept going on about the fact that _he_ had chosen the subject, so _he_ would just have to apply himself and stop being so lazy.

Stopping outside the entrance, he looked inside. The door was opened widely, framing the extensive library as well as a number of tables and chairs, some of them occupied by students of various ages, though mostly fifth to seventh year, he noted. OWLs and NEWTs, he supposed and walked in, feeling very lost. He'd only been in the library twice before, and they'd been short visits. And only one of them had been for an academic purpose. So naturally, he was a bit nervous. Seeing a long table with a few scattered students, he walked over and sat down by himself, dumping his books on the table. He brought out his quill and a bottle of ink, placing them next to his things and then drew out his half finished essay. He had a text in runes that he had to translate into English and then rewrite in his own words. It wasn't a very long text, but the strange symbols still made his head spin. Opening Spellman's Syllabary at his elbow, he continued to decipher the meaning of the paragraph he'd been given.

Twenty minutes later, he had managed to translate two sentences. He felt rather like just setting fire to the parchment, but restrained himself. As he flipped to the next page in the Syllabary, someone sat down opposite him. He looked up and found himself face to face with Felicity Alder, for the second time that day. She smiled at him.

"Hello again!" she greeted cheerfully, plopping her bag down on the table.

"Hi," he replied, managing to give her something reminiscent of a smile.

"I didn't know you came here," she continued, extracting her own quill and ink and setting them on the table before her. "I haven't seen you here before, I mean." He almost blushed again, but somehow dissuaded his body from embarrassing him.

"Oh… No, I suppose I don't, really." She grimaced.

"I'll be back in two seconds." She left her things and skipped off, perusing a shelf with squinting eyes. James stared at her, as he did so often. She was standing on the tips of her toes to read the name of a volume a bit higher up. Her skirt swung gently as she moved, and the top button of her shirt was undone. Her cardigan was open, letting the blue striped tie move freely as she walked up and down the aisle. _Bloody hell, James_, he thought, and shook his head to try and concentrate. Mercifully, she soon returned, adding another three books to her pile.

"Merlin, I swear I will die under this workload soon," she sighed. James noted that all the books (an impressing eight) were on Arithmancy. He'd thought of taking it at first, but had ran screaming away when his godmother and Aunt Hermione had said she'd taken it and found it challenging. It'd been difficult enough to force himself to pick Ancient Runes. After all, he'd rather kiss a goblin than take Divination.

"Are you sure you need _eight_ books?" James couldn't help but ask, looking with badly hidden astonishment at the stack. She laughed.

"Well… Yes. Okay, maybe not. But I just want to make sure I get it all right." James nodded, but he still couldn't understand why she'd need eight books for that. It was insane. Then again, she _was_ a Ravenclaw. And a girl. It explained a lot. "What are you working on?" James couldn't understand why _she_ would be interested in what _he_ was doing, but he would hardly turn down this opportunity to talk to her. He had another hour until Runes started, and besides, he would be taking the class with her. _Best day _ever_, so far_, he concluded.

"Ancient Runes," he said, feeling more like himself as he grimaced.

"You're not done yet?" she asked in surprise.

"Er, no. Barely got half way…"

"James! You have to hand it in in an hour!"

"I know that," he responded with the exasperation evident in his voice. "But it's bloody difficult, okay?" She pursed her lips.

"Here, let me help you." He raised his eyebrows. "Come on, hand it over." Complying, he gave her his poorly executed assignment and her eyes sped across the words. "But this is fine," she said. "Though you've translated this wrong." She pointed at the rune. "It means paradise, not cherry tree." He looked at it. Yes, it did make more sense that the wizards had been looking for a paradise rather than a cherry tree. She grinned at him.

"Thanks…" he muttered. "But it's not as if I'll ever get this done on time anyway."

"Sure you will. Just do it. Now. Ignore me." _Not possible_. "And tell me if you need help with anything, yeah?" _Will you go out with me?_

"Okay, yeah. Thanks." She opened a couple of books and began working with such concentration that James could pretty much feel it radiate off her. Forcing his eyes down to his work, he tried very hard to do the same. It wasn't working. He managed to translate another sentence, and huffed at the end of it. _Why is this so hard? And why the hell did I leave it until now? _Scowling at the innocent parchment he dipped his quill in the ink again and started scratching out the beginning of the next sentence, huffing and sighing every now and then. Five words in and he lost his concentration, plopping the quill into the ink bottle and rubbing his eyes.

"Oh for Heaven's sake, give it here." He looked up to see Felicity holding her hand out expectantly.

"What?"

"Hand it over. It's obvious you can't do it now, and I know for a fact that Professor Manning is already annoyed with your late hand-ins. So, give it to me."

"Felicity, you can't…" It was the first time he'd said her name to her face, and it felt oddly alien.

"I can and I will. Now give it to me, you broomhead." Huffing again, he picked it up and gave it to her for the second time. She immediately pushed her books out of the way, grabbed his Syllabary and started writing. It took her fifteen minutes to translate the rest of the text as well as correct the other few mistakes he'd made. When she was done, he was about to take it, but was stopped by her waving her hand. "One moment." She pulled out her wand, saying an incantation softly and waving the wand over the essay. James watched in wonder as her neat handwriting turned into his scrawled type before she gave it back. "You'll have to write it in your own words yourself. I can't do that for you." She handed him his book back and then continued working. Gobsmacked, James looked down at the text and checked his watch. He had just over half an hour left. Dipping his quill, he quickly scribbled out the same paragraph but using his own way of writing. Once finished he looked down at it, feeling immense relief.

"Thanks a million," he said genuinely to the girl opposite him, who was packing up her things. She rolled her eyes, but smiled anyway.

"No problem." She was just turning to leave when James said:

"Hey, Felicity?" She turned around, and looked at him expectantly.

"Yeah?" _No time to be a coward,_ he braced himself.

"I was wondering if you'd maybe like to… go for a walk. After classes. In the grounds. You know…" He was stumbling on the words and it irritated him. He didn't normally have any trouble speaking properly, to girls or otherwise. But this was Felicity, and her perfection made him look like a hapless flobberworm. She looked surprised at the request and didn't answer at first. "It's okay, you don't have to, never mind…" She broke into a smile.

"No, of course I'll go! It sounds like fun." He gawked. "Now come on. We have to go or we'll be late." Like in a trance he picked up his things, stuffed them into his bag and walked beside her towards the Runes classroom. "So, I'll have to ask: What's it like being the son of famed Harry Potter?" She grinned jokingly at him.

"Oh don't get me started…"


	15. Chapter 15

**If these updates aren't admirably speedy, then I don't know what is...**

**Hi! Chapter 15 for you. A bit different from the others, I reckon. I kind of like it, to be honest, haha ((: And I hope you all do, too!**

**Oh, I am getting so sad now. Two more chapters to go, then it's all done! Little Jamie will be all grown up! (Though in reality, following my timeline, he would be six now (2011). Aww!)**

**I have also finally been hit (smashed, thwarted, cobbled, squished) by severe post-Potter depression. Crying, crying...**

**Please review!**

**M. Sunshine**

* * *

James was hoping. Most likely in vain, but it was always worth a try. He was pondering why these things always seemed to happen to him. True, he often invited them to, but they didn't exactly _need_ to come along. It was all beastly unfair.

It had happened three times. _Three_. That was hardly very much, and, besides, he considered them accidents. Or at least not entirely his fault.

James was in his fifth year and had finally decided to join the Quidditch team. He would have done it earlier, but until his third year, his mum hadn't let him take a broom to school, scared of what her son might do given the opportunity. So in his third year he had planned on doing it, but it had all been ruined by that first trip to Hogsmeade. He remembered, now with some amusement tinting the annoyance, the day clearly.

_The sofa in the living room didn't feel as comfortable and inviting as it used to. James was sitting in the middle of it, trying__ not to look at his parents. Ginny was standing right in front of him, hands on her hips, lecturing with all her might. Harry was leaning against the fireplace, his arms crossed, looking silently down at the floor. _

"… _cannot _believe_ you would be so foolish as to go along with this! After we _specifically_ told you to be on your best behaviour for these trips, you go and do something like this. And to top it all off, your friend was badly hurt. What in the name of _Merlin_ would induce you to do something like this? Look at me, James." He looked up and met his mum's brown eyes. "Well?" _

"_I dunno…"_

"_That answer just isn't going to cut it, young man. Start explaining."_

"_It was Michael's idea!" he blurted out in spite of himself. He heard his father snort and watched his mother raise her eyebrows._

"_Nevertheless, you are clever enough to realise that something like that could end badly, for both of you. How could you, even for a minute, think this was a good plan?" _

"_I don't know! I thought it would be fun, and it wasn't as if we were doing anything stupid! We just went in, and then I wanted to leave, and he came after me and… yeah…" _

"_Not doing anything stupid? _Not_ doing anything…" Ginny pinched the bridge of her nose. "You can talk to your dad for a bit. But I seriously doubt Hogsmeade will be seeing anything of you for the next five years." She huffed and stormed out of the room. She had always had some troubles keeping her temper in check, and when she couldn't handle it she let Harry deal with the situation. _

_James felt his ears turn a deep shade of red. He shifted his eyes apprehensively to his father, who was still staring at the carpet._

"_Dad, I-"_

"_No, James, be quiet for a bit." James silenced, confused. Harry sighed and looked up. "That was a very stupid thing you did, you know that don't you?" James nodded mutely. "I know the Shrieking Shack might seem interesting, but it is _old_. You know you're not allowed to go anywhere near it. You tried that when we went a few years ago, remember?" Yes, James did remember. His dad had stopped him, and told him firmly he wasn't to be anywhere close to the old building. "It is _dangerous_, and you found that out the hard way," he continued sternly. "I don't think you'll be going to Hogsmeade again for this school year. Careful," he added when James looked like he wanted to protest. "Your mum wants to ban you for the rest of your schooling. Personally, I don't think that's fair. So this year it is. Additionally, I won't allow you to try out for the Quidditch team." James' shoulders slumped even further and he stared imploringly at his father. "I'm sorry James, but I don't think you've earned it." He stood up straight and let his arms drop. "Your professors will most likely give you detention as well, so I suppose we ought to get you back." James stood, looking absolutely devastated. Harry threw some Floo powder into the fireplace and green flames began flaring instantly. "Now, you'd better behave yourself, all right?" James nodded, and Harry patted his shoulder. "Off you go."_

"_Hogwarts," he said, and stepped into the flames._

James rubbed his eyes. His dad had been really nice to him at the time. He doubted that would be the case this time.

Anyway. During his fourth year, he'd sort of forgotten about the Quidditch thing after he'd started going out with Felicity. So his fifth year had come along, and he decided it was better late than never. He'd tried out for Keeper, and got the position. It hadn't been surprising, with his Quidditch background and playing ever since he'd got his first little broom. He thoroughly enjoyed spending all his free time either with Felicity, Michael or on the Quidditch pitch.

But the reason he was now growing kind of worried was to do with something else. Three times now he had hexed Jonathan Goyle, a nuisance Slytherin in his year. He was the son of Gregory Goyle, and just as thick and daft as his father. The problem was that James was the one to cast the spells. Jonathan simply managed to taunt him mercilessly with words and gestures. The first time he'd done it because he'd been annoyed. The five detentions had totally been worth it. The second time he'd done it as Jonathan had tripped Michael in the hallway. The week of detentions had, again, been worth it. But this time… He had called Felicity "an ugly cow" and said that she might "make a fine housewife to some unfortunate sod one day". Not being able to contain himself, he had spun around and blasted the boy into a wall, making him lose consciousness and then snapped the guy's wand in half. Felicity, being hurt by the insult but angry with James for losing it, had ignored him for the rest of the day before eventually forgiving him. She couldn't help but feel pleased that he'd put himself into that amount of trouble to defend her.

It was now Saturday, a day after these events, and he had come home with his siblings for Hugo's birthday that was coming up on Sunday. He was lying on his bed with an arm draped across his face. The Headmaster had been furious the previous day, issuing three weeks of detentions, a loss of 100 House points as well as owling his dad. _Just typical, sending the owl to dad's work_. His father was working still, but would be home in an hour or so. Normally, his mum was the one who blew her top. His dad was usually kind of subtle with these things. But one thing Harry had never been soft on was bullying others. Now, James didn't consider these escapades bullying. Not at _all_. In fact, personally, he thought he was the one being bullied. The spells… jinxes, were more self-defence. Unfortunately, this argument wouldn't work, as he was the only one drawing his wand. _It's not my fault the guy is so bloody slow on the uptake,_ he thought irritably. _Why can't he just hex me as well? At least then we'd both be in deep. _

So this was why he was lying miserably in his room when he was supposed to be having fun on his first day away from school. They'd made a thing out of trying to come home for the Potter and Weasley kids' birthdays. Though James was considering declining the offer next time. At sixteen, he would feel more comfortable spending the day with his friends. If he lived to see his next birthday, that was…

The door was suddenly flung open, and he jumped out, certain it was his dad. It wasn't. Lily was standing there, looking at him strangely.

"What do you want?" he demanded, frowning at his little sister.

"You don't have to be so tetchy," she said, pursing her lips, looking very much like Ginny. "Anyway. What did you do?" He raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean 'what did I do'?" She folded her arms.

"_Well_," she began, sounding as if she was speaking to an idiot, James noted, "Dad is going completely bonkers downstairs over some letter. I heard your name." He threw a pillow at her, which she easily dodged.

"You're not supposed to eavesdrop, you little imp."

"Oh _you're_ one to talk," she retorted, annoyingly quick for a twelve-year-old, James thought. "Aren't you the one usually lurking about, trying to find bits of information about, well, anything?"

"Oh, just get out, will you," replied James with a roll of his eyes.

"Sure. But-"

"_James Sirius Potter!"_ Her comment was cut off by their father's thunderous voice from downstairs. James closed his eyes and sighed deeply. _Yippee_. "Have fun!" she said cheerily before skipping out. He heard her close her door, and then his father's footsteps on the stairs. Only moments later, he stepped into James' room, looking absolutely livid and clutching a piece of parchment tightly in his hand. _Dear Merlin. Please give my broom to Michael and-_

"Would you care to explain this?" Harry said firmly, thrusting the letter at James. He took it, looking quite abashed, and read a bit.

_Mr Potter,_

_I am writing to you in regards of your oldest son, Mr James Potter. There have been several incidents now during which said son has hexed a fellow student. We have so far been lenient in the hopes that these disputes would cease but it is getting out of hand. It is…_

"Can you imagine how embarrassed I was when I got this at work?" Harry thundered, his green eyes stormy and… angry. Yes, unusually enough. "You _hexed_ a boy?"

"Come on, dad, it was _Goyle_!"

"I don't give a damn who it was!" _Swearing? Really? It wasn't as if I _killed_ the guy_… "And more than once? You are practically harassing this child!"

"Dad, come on!" he pleaded. "I would never do anything to the bloke if he hadn't insulted Felicity and been such a pesky nuisance!"

"I don't care if he'd shouted in your face; you must never, _ever_ attack someone who is unarmed."

"I _know_ that!"

"Then explain to me, right now, young man, what compelled you to act in such an atrocious way." By now, James was standing up, thoroughly annoyed that he was still quite a bit shorter than his father. Harry wasn't a very tall man, and James had often been irritated with his height.

The most frustrating thing was that he didn't know how to answer. He knew he shouldn't have jinxed Goyle, and he knew his dad would be angry when he found out. He had _never_ thought he'd be _this_ furious and disappointed though.

"I… I can't…" Harry softened every so slightly.

"Listen, James. I know what it feels like, all right? I know it can be extremely difficult to rein your temper in when someone is insulting you, or someone close to you. But it is never acceptable to do what you did. And you broke the boy's wand, for Merlin's sake!"

"I was angry, all right!" he practically yelled back in some sort of defence. Harry's eyes clouded over.

"Do _not_ raise your voice at me." James flushed involuntarily. "You can be angry if that pleases you, but anger is never an excuse to hex someone else I am very disappointed in you." James blinked several times and ground his teeth together.

"And this was, what, the… third time?" The boy nodded mutely. Harry sighed and ran a hand down his face before crossing his arms across his chest, staring at his son. "What am I going to do with you, eh?"

"Tell me I'm an idiot and drop the whole thing?" Lost cause and he knew it.

"Keep wishing, lad," Harry said, his face growing stern again. "You can forget Quidditch, for starters."

"_What_? But dad, I just made the team! I can't tell them I can't play! They'll get someone else!" Harry felt almost like giving in, but he wouldn't. James was good enough to get the spot next year should they decided to replace him "permanently". Besides, he was actually angry with his son in earnest. He had been absolutely horrified when he'd received the letter from the Headmaster that morning. He gave his son a sad look.

"No Quidditch for this year, son. It'll give you more time to think about what you can do differently the next time this boy picks on you." James clenched his hands. "I don't know how this works in school, really, but you are also grounded for two weeks." He looked outraged. "Don't protest James, really. No leaving your dorm apart from for class and meals. I will notify your professors of this." Sighing, he reached out, hooked his arm around his son's neck and pulled him into his chest. James, feeling very small, leaned his head on his father's chest. "Why do you always make me do this, hm?" James shrugged half-heartedly. "Let's not talk more about it now. We need to celebrate your cousin tomorrow, after all." James nodded, closing his eyes briefly. Suddenly, Harry stiffened, as if realising something.

"Hang on…" He let go of James, who straightened and looked quizzically at Harry. "Felicity?" _Oh for the love of Godric Gryffindor_, James thought with slight panic. He hadn't told his parents about his girlfriend-for-almost-a-year. He had made both his siblings swear not to tell, or he would get them back so badly. They had taken him seriously, afraid of what he might do. He simply hadn't wanted his mum or dad meddling in it. But now it seemed he had made the mistake himself. Typical.

"Yeeeaaaah…"

"Who is she?"

"Felicity Alder," he replied almost shyly.

"And…"

"Aaaand… She's been my girlfriend for the past year or so…"

"Your _girlfriend_?" Harry spluttered. James felt rather smug as he nodded. "And how is it I know nothing about this?" James snorted.

"Because I didn't tell you maybe?"

"You've had a girlfriend for a year and I never realised…" Harry looked struck and James fought the urge to laugh, remembering that he was still angry that his dad had banned him from Quidditch. "How old is she? What House is she in? Is she younger than you? Are you treating her fairly?"

"Whoa, dad, calm down."

"Yes, yes, but answer me." James rolled his eyes.

"She is fifteen, same as me, and she's in Ravenclaw. All right?" He nodded.

"And you are nice to her?"

"Of course I'm bloody _nice_ to her! She's my girlfriend, isn't she?"

"Oi, language," Harry frowned. "You'd _better_ be respectful to this girl." James rolled his eyes again.

"Well, duh." Harry squinted at his son.

"Behave properly towards her, understood? If I ever hear of you, I don't know, pushing her to do something…" James felt suddenly uncomfortable.

"Yeah, yeah, dad, sure."

"I'm serious. If you value your life…"

"I'll be good, Merlin's pants!" Harry huffed.

"I'm just saying."

"Once would do, thank you," James retorted, folding his arms across his chest. "Bloody hell…"

"James!"

"Yes, yes, language, sorry." He sensed his dad shaking his head.

"Come on, best go down to your mum. She'll want to know about this."

"No! No, you can't tell her." Harry smirked.

"I can tell her whatever I like. I'm the adult remember, I don't take orders. I give them."

"No shit, Sherlock…"

"_James Sirius!"_

"Right, right, got it…"


	16. Chapter 16

**Hello there! Chapter 16, there you are, folks.**

**So, one more... *sniff* Shall make the last chapter epic. Or something. It will probably be quite long, just so that I can get a good finish. What we all want, eh? Oh, and any suggestions for the last chapter? I feel like I'd love for you to have a say. And I can always use help, even though the final decision is mine. It'll be based around James graduating from Hogwarts, which I find exciting because there's no canon answer for what a Hoggy graduation is like. I can do whatever I want!**

**The riddle at the end of the chapter is sadly not mine. I might have been able to come up with something, but... Meh. It is nicked from Riddles dot com. Quite a fun site, I have to say.**

**Please review, my darlings!**

**M. Sunshine**

* * *

James sighed contently, lying on his back on his bed in the Gryffindor dorm. It was late Wednesday evening, and he had just come back from having a bath. Yes, a bath. Normally, he'd laugh at the mere idea of his having a _bath_, but when you had access to the prefect's bathroom, you didn't care about those things. Not that James was a prefect. Merlin no, someone would have had to Imperious the Headmaster for _that_ to ever happen. No, the reason was, of course, that he was Quidditch captain. To his immense joy, when he'd received his letter at the beginning of his sixth year, it had also contained a small gleaming badge. His dad had been over the moon.

"_Er, dad?" Harry finished writing a sentence on the parchment before looking up at his eldest son. The three kids were sitting on the couch, opening their Hogwarts letters to see what books they would be needing._

"_Yes?" he answered casually. But before James could say anything more, Albus jumped up off the couch with an excited yelp._

"_Prefect!" he exclaimed, beaming. Ginny, having heard the magic word, came running from the garden where she'd been talking to a neighbour._

"_Prefect? Albus?" He nodded enthusiastically, accepting somewhat reluctantly his mum's hug. "Oh this is marvellous news! Congratulations Al, I'm so proud of you!" Al looked quite pleased as he turned the badge over in his hands. Harry stood and came to squeeze his son's shoulder._

"_Well done, mate. Knew it'd be you though." Albus grimaced._

"_This is simply wonderful," Ginny gushed as Lily rolled her eyes at the scene. "We will have to celebrate. We should invite mum and dad, and Ron and Hermione of course. I suppose while we're at it we should just get everyone here. Although Charlie is still in Denmark looking for that wayward dragon, but we'll send him a letter."_

"_Calm down, darling," Harry said softly, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Let the poor boy breathe." She realised she'd pulled her youngest son towards her again, and he was simply too tactful to pull away. She instantly released him and smiled a watery smile._

"_Little Al, a prefect. I can't believe it."_

"_What's so bloody unbelievable about it?" James muttered grumpily._

"_Now, James," Ginny started, placing her hands on her hips, looking frighteningly like Molly, "You can at least try to be happy for your brother."_

"_It's not like it's a surprise!" he exclaimed._

"_James, come on," Harry said rather firmly. "Give your brother a break." He regarded his son briefly before he realised James had tried to say something before Al's outburst. "What was it you wanted to say before by the way? We got so caught up in this that you didn't get a chance," he smiled at his son. James, though angry with his family, couldn't help but hold up a small badge of his own. Similar to the prefect badge, but with a C on it rather than a P. "But that's…"_

"_Captain, yeah," James nodded. "But you go on and celebrate Al, as that's- Oof!" Harry had pulled him into a bone-crushing hug and was laughing merrily._

"_Captain! Of the Quidditch team! Fantastic, Jamie!"_

_"James," he muttered into his father's shirt._

"_A prefect and a captain!" Ginny squealed. No, not squealed. Ginny Potter nee Weasley did not squeal. Al, looking slightly sheepish, slapped James on the back once he was released by his father._

"_Nice one," he said, feeling bad that he'd stolen the spotlight from James. James shrugged._

"_Yeah, you too," he replied._

"_Invitations!" Harry yelled. "Come on, love, we need your parents, and as you say, all the others. Let's not forget Neville and Hannah and the kids, oh, and Luna, Rolf and the twins."_

"_And Teddy, don't forget Teddy."_

"_Oh, never would I forget him! And be sure to…" His voice drifted off as he walked happily with his wife into his study to start writing to the rest of the family. James groaned._

He chuckled as he lay on his bed. Only a few weeks from now, he'd be on the train back home for the summer. But tomorrow, he had the last Quidditch match for the term. The final between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Ironic, really. Last year Ravenclaw had won, to some people's surprise, but they'd been knocked out early this year as their Keeper had been injured. Their replacement hadn't been sufficient to keep them in the cup, and so Gryffindor would play Slytherin.

James felt fairly certain they would win. He very rarely let any goals in at all, and he'd been training his team ruthlessly. Not that anyone minded: they all wanted to win equally, to get that cup back from the Ravenclaws. The only problem was the Seeker on the Slytherin team. She was fast as hell, and far too talented with the Wronski Feint for it to be comfortable to the Gryffindors. _Hopefully, though,_ James couldn't stop himself thinking, _Michael will hit her off her broom_. Michael was one of the Beaters, of course, and pretty good at aiming the Bludgers right to the back of the player's brooms, sending them to the ground. A bit brutal, yes, but effective nonetheless.

As this thought passed through his head, said beater walked through the door, coming from the showers. He gave James a sour look.

"Look who it is. The Captain, back from his luxurious baths. Bring back any sweet smelling soaps or lotions?" James threw a pillow at his head, which he dodged. "Touchy."

"Oh shut your trap," James said, rolling his eyes as he sat up, watching Michael dry off his hair a bit more before hanging his towel up.

"We will have to delay the start of the game briefly, as the Gryffindor Captain is blow-drying his hair," Michael said into an invisible microphone, running around the room as he was chased by James. "Just some more wax and he should be ready to – " He was cut off by James launching himself at him, sending them both into a brawl on the carpet.

"Jealousy, mate!" he yelled as he rubbed the top of Michael's head mercilessly before getting up and plopping back down on his bed. "You're such a prat."

"Thanks mate, I'll remember that," Michael said with pursed lips, he, too, flopping down on his bed. "You ready for the game tomorrow?"

"No, not really. I need some more lotion I reckon." Michael snorted with laughter.

"Seriously, you bloody broomhead."

"Yeah, s'pose I am. We'll thwart the little snakes for sure."

"We'd better. Can you imagine the look on Parkinson's face if they win? I'd hex him."

"Best not," James said. "Even if I'd be okay with losing you as my friend, the team can't afford it." This time, it was James' turn to duck the flying pillow. He levitated it back to his friend, who stuffed it unceremoniously under his head. "But we have to win. Honestly. The Ravenclaws winning last year was just…"

"Incredible. Unbelievable," Michael nodded. "But come on, what kind of threat would the snakes pose, eh? They're wimps!"

"Fletcher is pretty damn handy with her flying though," James pointed out, referring to the Slytherin Seeker.

"Granted. I'll smash her down, shall I?"

"Would you mind terribly?"

"Not at all, sir."

"How awfully considerate of you," James drawled. "Come on, let's head into the Common room for a bit longer," he said, swinging his legs off his bed and standing up. "Can't sleep yet. Too… Restless."

"Fidgety," Michael nodded in agreement as they headed for the stairs.

"Oi! I am _not_ 'fidgety'!" James retorted, feeling quite insulted, as they entered the Common room, which held a number of students, all fourth years or up. James hadn't really thought of it during his earlier years, as he'd usually got tired at around nine, but apparently first to third years had a curfew before which they had to go to bed. All the students had a time when they had to be in their respective Common rooms, of course, but he'd been baffled in his fourth year when a Prefect had herded the younger students to their dorms at nine thirty.

They both slumped down on a couch near the fire, enjoying the low noises from other students studying, playing chess or Gobstones and low chit-chat.

"What's up with Felicity then?" Michael asked, staring at the fire.

"Hm? What do you mean?"

"She seemed kind of low this evening."

"She did?"

"You didn't notice? Damn you're a rubbish boyfriend." James kicked Michael's leg. "Ouch!"

"What do you mean? What did she say, what did she do?"

"She was just kind of mellow, s'all!" Michael exclaimed. "Merlin…" James sat up, feeling very anxious now.

"Come on, Mike, please…" he begged. His friend sighed, rubbing the palm of his hand across his forehead.

"She looked sad, you know. Only half-smiled when you joked with her." _How is it that _he_ noticed this and I didn't?_ James thought irritably.

"I have to go and see her." Michael's eyes widened.

"Are you _mental_?" he asked. "It's way past ten, we have to stay inside the tower now."

"I'm familiar with the rules, you numpty. But I have to see her."

"And you think she'd break curfew just to talk to _you_?" Michael enquired disbelievingly.

"Oh, thanks," James replied sarcastically.

"Come on, James, she's a _Ravenclaw_. And a girl. Use your head!"

"I am using my head! And right now it is telling me that she'll be angry with me for not asking her what's up. And the way I see it, it's better late than never."

"Well then you might as well wait 'til tomorrow," Michael grumbled, folding his arms, and glaring menacingly at a few fourth years who'd been gawking at them. They quickly turned back to their game of exploding snap, and Michael turned his eyes back to his distraught friend.

"She'll be pissed enough already," James complained, banging his head against the back of the sofa.

"Fine! Go on, risk it then, _Merlin's_ pants," Michael exclaimed, again sending a warning glare at the eavesdropping fourteen-year-olds.

"Yeah, I will," James nodded, and rose from the couch to fetch his Cloak.

* * *

Hogwarts as night was so different from the noisy corridors during the day. Most parts were completely deserted, save for a few ghosts or the occasional professor. James had, inheriting his father's trouble to sleep, wandered about the school several times during his years at Hogwarts_. And only been caught once or twice_, he thought smugly. As this thought passed through his head he quickly skipped (_no, no, no, _no_, jumped_) in behind a suit of armour (_very handy these things_) as Neville walked past, his wand aloft as he patrolled he corridor. He felt sort of bad, seeing his Head of House walking past obliviously. But he could hardly just walk out and give himself up. _Imagine that…_

Once Neville (_Professor Longbottom, Professor Longbottom_…) had passed, he realised he was wearing his Cloak. _Clever, James_, he thought sarcastically and kept walking to the other end of the castle, to the Ravenclaw tower, no longer worrying about being seen. Heard on the other hand… He was wearing trainers, so he managed to walk quietly.

After a short walk, he arrived at the staircase, and quickly ran up it. Arriving outside the Ravenclaw Common room, he stopped. _Crap, that's right_. Rather than having a portrait guarding the entrance, there was simply a door with a bronze knocker. He'd have to answer a riddle, wouldn't he? He groaned_. Like _that's_ ever going to happen_, he thought glumly, kicking the railing by the stairs. _That's the only bloody way in, too…_

Once his foot hurt sufficiently, he stopped dead, and stared into space as though he was in one of those sappy and overdone Muggle movies. It wasn't the only way in. Not really, if you thought about it. Then again, most people wouldn't think about it because most people weren't James Potter. Of course, it would be completely stupid. He'd be an idiot for trying it, but he couldn't help but entertain the idea. It might actually work. And no one would have to know. Well, apart from the Ravenclaws in the Common room, he supposed. They would probably not take too kindly to the whole thing, but since when had he been bothered by what some pesky Ravenclaws thought about him? Exactly. Apart from one very pretty Ravenclaw of course. One very pretty, and probably very put out Ravenclaw. He shuddered.

Besides, what was the worst that could happen? Expulsion? _Hardly_. Detention? _Very likely._ Lost points? _Guaranteed_. Report home? _Too likely for my liking_. Ban from Quidditch? _Hrm_… He didn't much like the last one, but would they really ban the Quidditch captain? He wasn't sure. Surely not, though. Neville-no-Professor Longbottom would come to his rescue. Wouldn't he?

Making up his mind, he barrelled back down the stairs and headed for his own Common room, set on picking up another of his most prized possessions. He would have taken the Map as well, but of course Lily had it at the moment. He huffed, but kept up his speed.

* * *

Felicity was sitting by one of the round, wooden tables in the Ravenclaw Common room, bowed over her books as he scribbled away furiously on an essay. Unlike the Gryffindor Common room, it was very quiet, and all that could be heard was the soft crackling of the fire, scratching Quills and low conversations. Rather than having fun, the room was used mostly for studying, especially when the younger kids had gone off to bed.

She was actually done with the assigned work for Runes, but had asked to write an essay on a particular group of Runes that hadn't been covered in class yet. Professor Manning had been delighted, and agreed heartily. So that was why she was sitting still at the table, writing, to be able to hand in the essay the following day.

She took a small break and put the quill down, flexing her fingers. Tomorrow afternoon was the final of the Quidditch cup. It was beyond her why they'd placed it on a Thursday, but she was looking forward to it. James was a brilliant flyer, and he seemed so happy up there. She smiled slightly, before picking her quill back up to continue writing.

After approximately fifteen minutes, she heard some sort of commotion at the other end of the Common room. They seemed to be fourth years, and she was about to turn around and tell them to be quiet when her fellow Prefect, Thomas Williams, turned to her.

"Er… Felicity?"

"Yep?" she replied, facing him with a smile.

"Is that your boyfriend?" He nodded over towards one of the high, arched windows. As she'd thought, several fourth years were gathered there, but she looked past them and into the night. With a gasp, she realised that yes, there was James. On his broom. Outside the window.

"What in the name of Rowena Ravenclaw…" she muttered and stood up, shooing the younger students out of her way. Checking that the Head Boy wasn't around, she opened the window and let him come in. "What the _hell_ are you doing?" she hissed, closing the window behind him and pulling him to the far end of the room, hiding them away behind a bookcase. "Are you mental? I could get suspended for not telling anyone of this!"

"I know, I'm sorry, but are you okay?"

"What? Am I okay? You come here, on your broom, in the middle of the night-"

"It's only ten to eleven…"

"- and ask if I'm _okay_?"

"Well, you seemed a bit down before, and I just…" He grabbed the back of his neck and looked sheepishly at her, broom still in hand and the Invisibility Cloak over his shoulder. She softened slightly.

"I just got an essay back, that's all." He raised his eyebrows, and she blushed slightly. "Yeah, what?"

"You were down because you got an O?" he asked sceptically. She smacked his arm.

"It was barely an O! I had several mistakes! It was dreadful!" James groaned and sank down to a sitting position on the floor. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, sure. I just… I am so dead." She pursed her lips.

"Probably." He glared. "Well, I won't say anything, and deny ever seeing you here, but I mean, load of others saw you. And they won't risk getting into trouble. You're breaking curfew _and_ entering another House's Common room."

"I know, I know. As I said: I am dead. For real." He groaned and banged his head against the wall. She got down on her knees and put her hand behind his head.

"Don't do that." He looked at her serenely, and then kissed her, placing a hand on the back of her small neck to pull her closer. She basically fell onto his lap, and threaded her fingers through his hair.

"James…" she murmured. "You have to go." He pulled back, looking slightly put out. She giggled. "Loving all of this, I assure you, but this isn't the right time."

"Yeah, s'pose so…" He stood up and helped her to her feet.

"Put the cloak on."

"What?"

"Just do as I say!" Raising his eyebrows again, he pulled the cloak over his head. "Just follow me and keep that big mouth of yours shut. She walked out, shaking her head.

"Well?" Williams asked. "Was it him?" She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, it was. I made him fly right out again. Listen, I'm just going to go to a Professor and tell them this. Seriously, love the guy, but sometimes he is so stupid. Don't worry about it, I've got it." Williams grinned and picked up his book again. James followed Felicity to the door, and slipped out after her.

"Thanks," he said gratefully.

"No problem, but don't spread the story around," she said.

"Sure, sure."

"Well, I'd best go inside."

"You realise they'll know you didn't find a professor, right?" She smirked.

"Our Head always comes in at eleven, so he'll be here soon. I'll just say I met him on the way. You'd better leave." He nodded, and pulled the cloak back on. She turned and knocked on the door.

"_Some will use me, while others will not, some have remembered, while others have forgot. For profit or gain, I'm used expertly, I can't be picked off the ground or tossed into the sea. Only gained from patience and time, can you unravel my rhyme?_" She rolled her eyes.

"Hate it when I get easy ones. You are knowledge," she said to the knocker, and the door clicked open. She grimaced at the invisible James. "See you tomorrow!" And with that she disappeared inside. James stared. Bloody hell. He then heard footsteps, and quickly stepped out of the way as the Head of Ravenclaw appeared. He hasted down the stairs before the man had even had time to knock.


	17. Chapter 17

**Took a bloody long time, but here you are! The final chapter about James (: Thoroughly enjoyed writing this, and I hope I didn't disappoint anyone with the ending...**

**I've been MIA lately; I know. School's kicking my arse, and I participated in NaNoWriMo just now. Will be scarce updates here, but please to keep a lookout! Lots of love to you all!**

**M. Sunshine**

* * *

James opened his eyes and stared at the canopy above his bed, his heart beginning to race immediately. _I can't actually believe it_. The joy and excitement he was feeling was slightly tarnished by a jab of sadness. He had just slept through his last night in his dorm, the room where he'd spent most nights for the past seven years. _I can't believe it. This can't be happening._

He carefully sat up and noticed that the other boys were still asleep. Glancing at the clock he noted it was only just past seven. The graduation ceremony would be held at two o'clock in the Great Hall followed by a gathering of all the NEWT students, their parents and the professors by the lake. James felt as though he would be able to relax a lot easier if he'd already been given his grades, but no. At least, unlike the OWL students, he would get them handed to him when he graduated, rather than having to wait through most of the summer.

Swinging his legs over the bed he stood up, quietly changing from his pyjamas to his uniform. He tried not to look at the ceremonial Hogwarts robe hanging on his dresser. He would put it on later, of course. Deciding he couldn't bear waiting for Michael, he tied his shoes and left the dorm, heading for breakfast. In the Common room, he found Albus, reading a book, and a few third year girls having got up early (probably without noticing it) for some reason.

"Morning," he greeted his younger brother, who looked up and broke into a wide grin when he spotted James coming closer.

"Morning. How does it feel?" he asked, his eyes gleaming with excitement and… pride. James felt a bit bad for all the times he'd been a prat to Al. _Little Al,_ he thought with amusement.

"Odd," James answered truthfully. "Amazing, exciting. A bit sad, y'know," he added sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

"Naturally," Albus nodded, closing his book. "Mum's going to be in tears. Grandma too," he added thoughtfully. James groaned and slumped down on the couch.

"I know," he replied through his hands which he was using to cover his face. "This is so odd. I can't explain it to you."

"I won't say I understand, 'cause I don't," Albus commented with a hint of amusement. James snorted. It really was strange though. Of course he was excited. He was seventeen, had finished school. An adult, ready to go and start working, make his own way through life. But he loved Hogwarts, and it'd feel completely alien to leave his siblings there. And moving out? How the hell was he going to manage at all? "Come on, James, don't look so frightened," Albus chuckled, earning a glare. "Did you send the application for the Higher Wizarding Academy?" James shook his head, and Albus gaped in surprise. "What? But it's too late now!"

"Shut it, Al, I know," he growled.

"But, but, you were, I mean…" Albus stuttered, his eyes still wide. James sighed and ran a hand down his face.

"Listen, Al, we all know that wasn't for me. Come on, I was never the studying type." He prodded his brother who eventually shrugged in response.

"But then what are you going to do?" he asked, incredulous.

"Dunno really," James replied. "I have some money saved, and I know dad's going to give me some today," he added with a grimace. "I'll find a job somewhere, move out as soon as possible and then go from there." Albus sputtered. As someone who had planned out his whole life, and his future children's, James' spontaneous decisions were hard for him to grasp. The older sibling clapped his brother on the back. "It'll work out, Al," he said reassuringly, though with a hint of sarcasm. Al sighed and shook his head.

"Does mum and dad know?" he inquired, running a hand through his hair, as was the trademark for the Potter lads.

"I haven't exactly told them, but I doubt they'll be surprised," James grimaced in response. "Come on, let's have breakfast," he continued, hoisting Al up by his arms, draping his left arm across his brother's shoulders.

"Yeah, sure…" he replied, tucking his book under his arm as they ducked out through the portrait hole together.

"Last breakfast here," James sighed nostalgically. "It's going to be sad," he added, but smirked at the same time. Albus, knowing his brother, instantly grew suspicious.

"What's that smirk for?" he asked as they started down the main staircase.

"Hmm? Oh, no, nothing," James replied merrily, bounding ahead like a rambunctious dog. "Come on!" Albus huffed, not satisfied with James' answer, but figuring he'd leave it. It was, after all, James' last day. He would obviously be a bit… off.

They entered the Great Hall, and Al was taken aback by the amount of students already there. At least a third of all places were taken by the four tables, students chattering casually, not paying anyone any mind. He glanced over at James, ready to make a remark about this, but found his brother smirking again. Frowning, he said:

"James… What's going on?"

"What?" James sang back, firing a smile at his brother before swaggering over to the Gryffindor table and sitting down, waving for Al to join him. Al, still quite suspicious, headed over to his older sibling and sat down opposite him.

"You're up to something," he stated, narrowing his eyes.

"I'm always up to something, Allie, get used to it."

"_Allie_? Did someone put some Insanity Blend in your juice?" James laughed, reaching over and ruffling Al's hair.

"I'm going to miss you, mate," he said with a sigh, shaking his head.

"Neither of us are dying, James, so stop being so damn melodramatic," Al said grouchily as Lily bounded up to them and sat down.

"Hey James! Ready to leave the hell hole?"

"Obviously," he replied with a raised eyebrow as his sister high-fived him.

"James is up to something," Al informed their sister as they snatched up a couple of slices of toast.

"Isn't he always?" she pointed out, reaching for the marmalade.

"Lily!" She laughed, and Al realised she was probably already in on the secret. He groaned.

"Come on, tell me! You're always planning stuff behind my back."

"That's because you're ickle prefect Allie," James said with a matter-of-fact voice.

"Doesn't mean I'm a snitch!"

"It does," Lily nodded seriously, gazing mirthfully at her brother as she bit into the orange marmalade slathered bread. She patted him. "Don't worry. We love you anyway."

"Well that's lovely," he muttered. James laughed and winked at Lily. _This is wonderful_, he thought with amusement as he watched more students pouring into the Great Hall. It had been difficult to keep all the Prefects and Professors in the dark, but he'd succeeded in the end. He would be leaving in style. Well, hoping that he couldn't be given detention on the last day. He doubted it. Besides, Professor Longbottom had humour. Hopefully the other professors did too. Merlin knew they'd been seen smiling patiently at his antics over the years. And his Uncles Fred and George before then. And his granddad James before that. Yes, they'd be smiling about it, certainly.

He grabbed a boiled egg and chopped the top off it with a knife, humming quietly.

"James…" He looked up at the pained face on Al's face and sighed.

"Calm down, Albus. I swear I'm not murdering anyone. Or hurting anyone, or…" He was about to say embarrass, but he wasn't sure that was true, so he shut up. _It depends on the person,_ he mused silently.

"Or…?"

"No, nothing."

"Well, I'd best be off," Lily declared, licking some marmalade off her thumb as she stood up. "You fixed everything, yeah?" James nodded in response, before his red-headed sister skipped out of the Great Hall, whistling merrily.

"You two really are the most obnoxious people in the universe," Al exclaimed. "Why do you think I couldn't handle being in on the secret?" James laughed.

"I'm sure you could. But you might try to stop me. Well, maybe not. It's funny. Or so I believe…"

"Whatever," Al muttered, clearly giving up, and stood up to leave.

"I'll see you later!" James waved his brother off. Upon being left alone, he could finally go through the plan in his head.

The first he'd had to do was to change all the clocks in the castle, making them show the time as two hours later than it actually was, simply to get people up earlier. The spell would wear off during the day, and the time would be put right before the graduation ceremony, so as to avoid any confusion. This had been done the previous afternoon. After that, he had, with Lily's help, spiked about a hundred people's evening tea or drinks with a handy little potion which would show its effects around the time breakfast would normally be served. Which, today, meant in about an hour.

James looked around to see a few of the people he knew would feel the effects of the potion. It was frowned upon, really, spiking people's drinks. But, as James saw it, they'd be rid of him after today, so what did it matter?

Of course, there were a couple of more spells that needed to be performed to complete what he had planned. And so he finished off his egg, dusted the crumbs off his robes, and rose to start the day's work.

* * *

"I've _no_ idea!"

"What happened to _you_?!"

"Did you dye your hair?"

"Since when are you _bald_?"

"What in Merlin's name are you saying?"

James had to work hard not to laugh hysterically at the horrified students charging around the corridors of Hogwarts. Regularly, one would spot someone looking distraught at their own appearance. Some people had minor changes, like their hair turning bright green, or their eyes starting to blink with different colours. Others were less fortunate: some had lost all hair, some suddenly had an extra arm, some could only speak in rhymes, some could only say words backwards, while others were, all of a sudden, fluent in Swahili. On the whole, it was all harmless, but it did cause some distress which was highly amusing to watch. Of course, James knew he'd be one of the ones incriminated, and so he had done the natural thing: spiked his own drink, and Lily's. Not Al's. Mainly because he wasn't sure his younger brother would find it particularly amusing. It wasn't as though anyone would think he'd done it anyway.

Sporting two small horns and bright green hair, James wandered through the castle, attempting not to look too pleased with himself. Lily was going to meet him outside the library, to help him with all the other small steps. In all honesty, his plans where not exactly some destructive prank. He just wanted to mess up as much as possible during his last few hours at Hogwarts. To make sure it would take a while to put things right. And he thought he had a pretty good idea of what needed to be done.

"JAMES!" James jumped about two feet into the air, turned 180 degrees and faced Lily. "Bloody hell. I had to call your name about five times before you replied.

"Oh. Really? Are you sure?"

"Yes," Lily said with a huff, crossing her arms. "Are we going to do this or not?"

"Of course we are," James replied haughtily, pulling the invisibility cloak out from under his robes. "Here we are." He threw it over the two of them and they slipped into the library.

When the two emerged, they wandered a bit before discarding the cloak behind a suit of armour.

"Lovely," Lily said contently. "I'll do the paintings, and you do the doors, yeah?"

"I think so. Don't think you'd manage the doors," James said.

"Oi! I'll have you know that my spell work is extraordinary."

"Extraordinarily ordinary," James scoffed.

"Don't make me turn you into a hinkypunk."

"As if you'd manage that."

"Cocky 'til the end, Potter."

"More than you could ever claim, Potter," James replied before turning on his heel and stalking off, smirking at the banter between him and his sister.

"Mr Potter!" He groaned under his breath at the sound of Professor Cooper's voice. Turning to face the cloaked man approaching him, he put on an innocently surprised face.

"Professor."

"Just what is going on around here?" he asked, waving his hand around emphatically. James hadn't put anything in Cooper's drink, but not for lack of trying. That was the problem with Defence teachers. They were way too bloody suspicious and prepared.

"I don't know," he said, pointing to his head. "I sprouted horns earlier. At least the green hair is funny." Cooper narrowed his eyes at James.

"Are you telling me you don't know what's going on?"

"Not a clue," James said, trying to sound dejected. "I wish I knew though. I'd send the chap flowers and thank him for causing such wonderful mayhem."

"Chap? So you know it's a male student?"

"Can't say I know anything about it, sir. And what makes you think it's a student? Might have been a teacher, just like you."

"Watch yourself, Potter," he said sternly, pointing his finger at James' chest. "If I find out you have anything to do with this I will –"

"Give me detention?" James asked, looking fearful.

"I said _watch it,"_ Cooper repeated, glaring at James as he stalked off.

"Nice talking to you, sir!" James called after him, before he kept walking, a smile on his face.

* * *

"Merlin's beard!" Ten rubies dropped down, giving Gryffindor another ten points. They'd been awarded points at an extraordinarily high rate; and the teachers had no clue why. They couldn't seem to find out which students were being awarded them.

If they day had seemed odd at breakfast, when random students had undergone various physical changes, it got stranger as the day progressed. Suddenly, all the paintings were turned upside. Quite literally all of them; not even the locked classrooms and offices had escaped. The library was now home to the school's owls, and all the books had somehow been crammed into the owlery, and the Sorting Hat had gone missing.

"I want to know who is responsible for this!" the Headmaster shouted furiously, yanking a door open, only to have a cheerful voice say "Isn't it a splendid day for door-opening!" and to find all the paintings there, too, hanging upside down, their inhabitants calling desperately as they clung onto curtains and chimneys. Emitting a noise sounding oddly like a growl, he banged the door shut again, and continued down the hallway, a number of his professors following him. The Headmaster himself had, around breakfast, suddenly got pink hair and a long fox's tail sticking out from among his robes. As he stormed down a hallway, he saw a flick of red hair disappear around a corner. Speeding up further, he spotted the youngest Potter child, her black cloak flapping behind her, her wand in her hand. Stopping abruptly, the Headmaster fumed.

"_POTTER!"_

* * *

It was about lunchtime, and James was floating on clouds. Lunch was being served, and following it, all the seventh year students would change to their ceremonial robes and prepare for the graduation ceremony. He was giddy with excitement and nerves, but at least he'd managed to cause complete havoc in the school. With some help from Lily of course. Michael had said he didn't want to have any part in it and run away when James had suggested it, but things had worked out fine anyway. Of course, James hoped no one figured out it was them, as Lily still had three years left at Hoggy, and he didn't want to get her into trouble. _Well, perhaps a little would be good for daddy's little girl_, he thought sarcastically as he shovelled some food into his mouth. The professors' table was oddly empty, with only a handful of teachers present, looks of irritation, amusement and fear spread among them. Suppressing a chuckle, James reached up and felt the small horns he was sporting. The potion should wear off about in time for dinner, he recalled. It had been difficult to fix everything; most especially Confunding the point-system to award points at every mention of "Merlin". But despite all his hate for studying, James was a rather talented wizard, and had never really had problems with his spell work. Neither had Lily or Albus, and so Lily's help had been most welcome. Perhaps even more so than Michael's would've been. He snorted, and got up from the table.

With long steps, he raced back up to the Gryffindor tower, and ran smack into his sister, who was on her way out of the Common room.

"Lils! Brilliant work, I can't—"

"_Less talking, more moving_!" she hissed, quickly shoving him inside and slamming the portrait shut, to the Fat Lady's irritation. "The Head's onto us," she muttered as she pulled him with her up to his dorm. Glad to find it empty, she locked the door and cast a curt silencing spell over it.

"No, really?" James said, looking disappointed.

"Yeah, I had to fix one of the paintings which I'd forgotten, and I think he saw me running off. Reckon he knows you're behind it though; can't see why I'd want to cause such a mess on graduation day." James sighed and flopped back on his bed, dejected.

"Ah well. Too bad. But they can't prove anything." Lily raised an eyebrow at him.

"They bloody well could," she protested. "And I'll be the one in trouble when you're gone." James grinned at her.

"Nah, I'll take full blame." They sat in silence for a moment.

"It'll be weird when you leave," Lily said eventually. "Empty."

"Don't go all soppy on me, Lils," James warned her, sitting up. "I can't handle it today." Rising, he held up the ceremonial robes in front of him, looking himself up and down in the mirror on the wall. "Looking rather dashing, eh?" he said sarcastically. The black material of the robe was soft to touch and would probably move gracefully when worn. It had maroon trimming, and both the Gryffindor and the Hogwarts crest on the breast. Weird to get something as fancy as this and wear it once, he pondered.

"Gee, sorry," she replied. "I should be happy; at least now I won't have half as many detentions."

"Reckon you do pretty well on your own," James retorted. "Now get your backside out of here; I need to change." As the word "change" left James' mouth, his sister dashed out of the room without a word. James grinned again.

* * *

"James Potter, Gryffindor." They had gone through half of his year by the time they got to his name. Despite himself, James blushed a red to match his cousins' hair as they erupted into applause and whistles. The Head handed over the parchment, sealed with the green, waxy crest of Hogwarts, and smiled tautly at him.

"Thanks, sir," James said in a low voice, grinning. The teachers had managed to conceal all the strange physical changes in time for the ceremony, but James could spot several odd-coloured heads and tails amongst the crowd. It was just after four in the afternoon, and so he was positive that it would wear off within an hour. He still had his green hair and horns, but under the pointy black hat he was wearing, they weren't visible.

They went through the rest of the year, and then the Headmaster held a speech. James didn't really listen. Instead, he watched his family; his dad looked like he was about to burst out laughing, his mother was crying and the Weasley clan were all grinning madly. It was always odd, seeing his family on school grounds, but this time, it was even stranger. _This is it,_ he thought as the Headmaster droned on about academic excellence and magical achievement or something along those lines. He was about to graduate from Hogwarts, after which real life began. He had no clue what he wanted to do. Suddenly, it all came crashing down around him. The fact that, unlike, Al, he had no plan, whatsoever. It was all well and good to talk about being spontaneous when one was in the safe confines of Hogwarts, but when push came to shove… Did he know how the hell to survive on his own? _I'd probably forget to eat and starve to death,_ he thought, somewhat miserably.

Eventually, he heard the Head clear his throat as he prepared to say the magic words. All seventh years, in their brand new robes and hats, stretched a little bit taller, tilted their heads up, started breathing more rapidly.

"It is my greatest pleasure," he said, in a voice very much like how James had imagined Dumbledore would have spoken, "To present to you all, the NEWTs of 2023. Hereby, these young witches and wizards are relieved from their obligations towards Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Class, you are dismissed. Congratulations." James, along with the rest of his year, broke into ecstatic cries of joy, and they all streamed off the podium and went to meet their families.

As soon as James reached all his people, he was engulfed in a hug.

"Mum…"

"Mum?" He realised it was in fact his father that was hugging him; Harry held his soon at an arm's length. "Have you gone completely barking mad, boy?" he said, shaking his soon before bursting into laughter and hugging him again. "I can't actually believe it," he muttered, holding onto James for a bit longer, before composing himself and letting go. James then passed from one set of arms to the other, facing congratulations and pats on the back wherever he turned.

"How're you feeling?" his Uncle Ron asked, putting an arm around his shoulders. "Scared? Terrified?"

"Ron!" Hermione admonished. "Don't be silly."

"Knowing James he's probably already planning a new way of tormenting the professors," Ginny said with a smirk.

"Or, knowing James, he has no clue what to do," Harry laughed. "But how do you feel, son?" he asked, repeating his best friend's question. James looked from one of them to the other.

"Absolutely bloody brilliant."


End file.
